


Feels like Christmas every time I'm with you

by taelme



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers, doyoung's sister is your student, holiday season au, lounge singer!doyoung, single brother au?, slow burn-ish to me, yuta and you are co-workers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28040169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taelme/pseuds/taelme
Summary: He looked up at the mistletoe, drawing your attention up to spot it as well, “Oh look, mistletoe,” he murmured.In the wave of panic that rushed through you, you’d reached up to pluck the mistletoe from where it hung, “oh look,” your laugh gave away your nervousness, “conflict of interest.”.Doyoung and you encounter each other by what seems like fate (or Johnny) and help each other remember just what’s so special about Christmas. Otherwise known as: Doyoung thinks love is like improvising.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Feels like Christmas every time I'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work cross posted from Tumblr @/taelme, no one else is allowed to repost this work on other platforms! anyway doyoung’s mom isn’t portrayed in the best light in this fic but as it goes, this is an entirely fictional work so I obviously don’t see doyoung’s mom in this way.  
> (p.s. I mention a lot of songs in this so feel free to listen to them if u want to get into the Vibes, and this was more or less loosely based on i.o.u)
> 
> anyway kudos and comments are very much appreciated!

_On days when your heart yearned to be comforted by something only an angelic melody would understand, his voice would always find you._

You didn’t know his name, of course, the boy who sang at the small lounge in the city on evenings where you felt like your knees could collapse underneath you any second and your world was something of a bubble that would burst at the slightest disruption.

But what you did know was that you felt something when you listened to him sing. You weren’t sure if it was his song choice, whether it was hearing him sing ‘ _A Sunday kind of love_ ’, or ‘ _If I had you_ ’, that filled you with such a longing for something you couldn’t even place. Or whether it was the gentle way with which he sang certain songs, putting his own soft, airy, yet intense spin on the song. Or maybe it was the way he sang with a certain level of experience, and you meant experience in its broadest sense; as if he was pouring out all his feelings and joys and tragedies of life into the words he sang.

Maybe, you knew what the feeling was. _Comfort and love,_ in the purest form of it’s essence. And like you said, it was like you’d been conditioned, somehow always finding your way back to the lounge on the days you needed to feel these things the most.

“You’re only twenty-three, but you frequent that place as much as my aunt goes to the bar. Is there something we should be talking about?”

You rolled your eyes at the man sitting before you, squeezing into one of the small child-sized chairs in your classroom as he rested his elbows on the table, munching on the bread you’d bought him from the nearby bakery.

“Shut up, Yuta—”

“The children are going to hear you and wake up if you continue being that loud,” he interrupted you, gesturing with his bread towards his right, a small smirk playing at his lips.

You glanced at the direction of your sleeping class of children, seeing that one of them at the far corner of the room was indeed looking at you as they fiddled restlessly with their mattress cover.

Using your hand to gesture for the boy to lay his head down, he did so obediently, shutting his eyes tightly as he let his legs sprawl out behind him.

Sighing, you turned back to face Yuta, taking a sip from your coffee and preparing to lower your volume for your next words, “It’s your fault I even found out about the lounge.”

“Well, if you put it like that, I guess you could be thanking me for it.”

Inhaling deeply through your nose, you rolled your eyes, letting out a deep sigh, “besides, it’s not like I go there to find guys—”

Yuta snickered, “maybe you should be, you’re not getting any younger.”

Your frown deepened, scoffing at him, “speak for yourself. Didn’t you _just_ get out of a relationship?”

You tried prodding at his sensitive spots, recalling that Yuta had been telling you about a girl he’d met recently.

Narrowing his eyes at you, your co-worker swallowed his mouthful of bread quickly to scoff at you.

“Doesn’t count. It was barely anything as it was,” Yuta huffed, looking elsewhere as he narrowed his eyes sternly at one of the children he could see from his class who was busy trying to roll themselves up in their mattress, the said child immediately returning to a sleeping position once locking eyes with Yuta.

“Yeah, well. As I was saying,” you shot him a pointed look, stealing a bun from the packet in front of him, “I just go there, mind my own business, listen to some music, drink something simple, then I go home. It’s not that deep.”

“I mean, it must be if you keep going there. C’mon, just say it. What’s keeping you there?” he frowned, genuinely trying to figure out your motives behind your frequenting of the said jazz club, “I mean, I know I was the one who introduced you to the club but the bartender’s kind of rude and the music’s kind of good but... doesn’t really strike me as something to keep going back for.”

You shrugged, cleaning your hands with a wet tissue and shoving it somewhere into Yuta’s empty bread packet you hoped he would remember to throw away later on, “That’s precisely what it is.”

Yuta’s eyes widened, his smile growing, “ _The bartender?_ I mean, yeah, I knew Sicheng was hot but I didn’t think—”

“ _The music_ , ” you corrected, shaking your head at him, “that’s all I ever really go back for.” Yuta hummed, taking your cue to (reluctantly) open his laptop as well.

“Okay, that’s cute, but lame, I was expecting something a little spicier,” Yuta sighed, “speaking of which, do you have any plans for Christmas?”

You shook your head, “Haven’t thought about that yet... but i’ll probably be finishing up the children’s portfolios, I guess.”

Yuta looked horrified, “On _Christmas_? You can’t be serious.”

Huffing, you shrugged at him, “I don’t know why you’re surprised. Christmas hasn’t felt like Christmas for years. Plus, it’s only November.”

“You talk as if people don’t already start listening to Christmas songs in June,” Yuta snorted, earning an eye roll from you in response.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re planning the Christmas party right?”

Yuta nodded, “Don’t even know if I can call it a party, I was thinking of arranging it as more of a potluck kind of thing, so each of the parents can bring their own dishes and just hang out I guess.”

“I can’t say i’m looking forward to spending that long with the parents,” you sighed, the thought of potluck and dishes reminding you of Thanksgiving, “Are you coming for Johnny’s thanksgiving party?”

“Yeah...” Yuta pouted at you as he trailed off, looking as though he wasn’t done arguing with you until he’d glanced at his laptop, his frown deepening, probably having seen the email your principal had sent out just over an hour ago.

“Have you finished doing your documentation for the term yet?”

“No,” you groaned, “I don’t even know how i’m gonna get it done by Monday, I’m probably gonna have to spend the whole weekend doing it.”

You were ticked off now, thoughts of Johnny’s thanksgiving party pushed to the back of your mind. It wasn’t as if you hated working or anything, you just hated how your principal loved to rush deadlines, especially since you were already up to your neck doing other sorts of documentation and recording to compile the portfolios for your students.

“It’s so stupid!” taking a harsh sip of your coffee, you were glad to receive some sort of empathy from Yuta who leant back in his seat with a resigned sigh. He’d been promoted to senior teacher recently, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his workload cut out for him as well.

You suppressed a groan, continuing on your tirade, “most of the parents don’t even end up reading the portfolios, if anything i’m doing it more for the principal than for the parents.”

Yuta let out a small hum, “that’s true. I haven’t finished mine either, wanna come over on Saturday to get it done?”

Seeming to have already given up, Yuta had pulled out his phone from his pocket, beginning to swipe into his social media platforms mindlessly, his thumb seeming to scroll faster than he could actually process the posts, it was obvious he wasn’t planning on getting anything done yet.

You sighed, “only if we order from somewhere else. I can’t handle another meal from that place below your apartment.”

Scoffing at you, Yuta dismissed your comment, pulling his phone out to show you a mirror selfie Sicheng had just uploaded on his instagram.

“Are you _really_ sure you’re not going back for him?”

===

You were having one of your worst days yet.

Your voice was hoarse from raising it all day (one particular thing you hated about how the noise from the other classes would always echo into your class). You could barely hear yourself think as it was, much less what your children were saying. On top of that, your principal had deemed your online documentation for the parents as not ‘ _up-to-par to your usual standard_ ’, not to mention the fact that a pair of parents had been getting on your back all day asking about the bruises on their child’s leg.

To someone from the outside, all of these seemed to be minute, menial tasks and trivial things you were stressed out about, but considering you were already tired from having to keep your energy up throughout the week, it seemed as though all of these small things were adding up to make you feel like your strength really was a bubble about to burst.

Yuta had been the one to raise the issue to you since he’d been here since the morning conducting temperature checks for the children, claiming that one of their mom’s had insisted that the child had gotten the bruise from the school even though you were pretty sure you’d told their dad the previous day that the only thing you’d seen was the child constantly scratching at an insect bite. And plus, you look after your students. You definitely hadn’t seen them fall or bump into anything through the day.

“Look,” you gestured to Yuta, holding the child’s leg gently in your hands as they continued playing with their toys, oblivious to what you were doing, “she asked me how all these bruises came around. Some of these have already been here since ages ago and she knows that.” You complained to Yuta, who had been standing outside your class as he waited for his kinder class to finish going to the washroom.

Yuta frowned at the sight of the child’s leg, “if anything, she should know better than anyone. Every morning when he comes in he thrashes around and tries to throw himself off as she’s carrying him, you’d think it was a miracle if he didn’t accidentally hit something.”

“I _know_ and—”

“Doha stop that! It’s very noisy!” your heads turned abruptly to the direction of the noise. Spotting the teacher from the class above you scolding one of your kids, Doha, who had slammed her toys on their table in frustration at her friends.

You narrowed her eyes, watching as that teacher had walked over to where Doha had been seated with her friends at her table, proceeding to shout at her for crying and demanding her to stop crying at that instant.

Yuta scoffed, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of the teacher scolding Doha, “here we go again.”

You knew what he was referring to. After all, it wasn’t the first time this happened.

You were still young (as much as Yuta disagreed), a fresh graduate, compared to this teacher who had much more experience than you. So this meant having to constantly hear them implying how you had little control over your children, something you were really growing tired of, especially today.

“Do I look pissed off? I don’t think I can hide my expression once she turns around,” you muttered through gritted teeth towards Yuta.

Yuta nodded, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to stifle his smile, pressing his lips together firmly, leaning over to you to sigh (as much as he was slightly amused at how annoyed you were).

“Give it up, let her do what she wants. It’s Friday, anyway. Just give it,” he glanced sideways at the clock on the wall, “an hour more and you won’t have to see her for another two days.”

Huffing, you straightened out your sweater as you stood up, “Two days too short.”

“Gotta go, good luck with Doha,” Yuta clapped you on the back loudly, earning a laugh from one of his students, raising his hand as he beckoned his children to follow him back to their class.

You waited for that teacher to make her way back to her class, letting out a small sigh as you walked through your class, nodding and appeasing the children who were yelling out variations of ‘Doha is crying!’ to you.

Wishing just momentarily that your co-teacher wasn’t on leave these few weeks (and maybe being even a little jealous of her that she’d chosen to clear her leave so close to Christmas), you’d crouched down in front of the crying girl, whose shoulders were shaking and chest was heaving from how hard she was crying but also how hard she was trying to stop crying, the sight making you pity the poor girl.

Bringing her aside and taking a seat on a chair you’d previously been sitting on at the side of your class, you’d let her stand between your legs, your hands grasping hers gently.

“What happened, Doha?”

In between her whimpers and tears, she’d managed to blurt out, “Sora said... won’t come to pick me up.”

You frowned, mishearing her words from how hard it was to make out what she was saying with all the noise from surrounding classes, “Jungwoo? No, honey, Jungwoo will come to pick you up later, don’t worry okay?”

If anything, your words had only served to make her cry even more, deciding on letting her hug you to soothe her.

“I miss Do-ie,” she cried to you, her arms wrapping around your neck tightly as you pat her back gently.

“It’s alright, honey, he’ll come soon, okay?” _Whoever that was_ , you figured it was probably a nickname for Jungwoo.

Frankly, you’d never heard her mention this person until today. You’d previously only heard of Jungwoo, her guardian’s friend that comes to pick her up and babysits her, or Dongyoung, her guardian who was busy all the time (hence, Jungwoo’s presence).

Your co-teacher was more well-informed on her family situation, only having mentioned to you that Dongyoung was her guardian that was taking care of her in place of her parents and that he didn’t get to spend much time with her outside of school. You pitied her, frankly, feeling more concerned than anything. A part of you had always wished that you would get to see this Dongyoung guy one day and figure out just what you could do to help them. Call you a busybody, sure, but you figured it was a curiosity and concern that came naturally as her teacher.

Talking to Doha a little more, you realised how much she really loved this person, if it was anything to judge from the way her eyes simply shined as she talked about the things they did together, saying that she wanted to go to see the Christmas lights with them, and upon further prompting, you discovered that she’d loved Christmas enough to call it her ‘ _favourite_ ’ time of the year.

“Why is it your favourite?” you asked her.

She’d calmed down a little more now, looking at you with a small smile playing at her lips as you used your knuckle to smooth it over her cheek gently.

Doah scrunched her nose up at you, finally breaking out into a grin. “Because... the Christmas songs.”

You guessed that was one thing you had in common.

Because as you sat in the jazz club that night, at your usual seat where it was close enough to the stage that you didn’t have to look past all the couples but far enough that no one would see you unless they were looking for you, you heard the boy begin to sing his own gentle rendition of ‘ _White Christmas_ ’, and you couldn’t help but think _Doha was absolutely right_.

 _On days when Doyoung felt like his thoughts were too much to communicate to others, he let his music speak for him_.

He thought of singing as something of a haven. Strange as it sounded, nothing else was as simple to him as music was. He’d gone to it for comfort, for love, to satiate his boredom, for happiness, for consolation. He thought of it as a tool, if he were to use something technical to define it.

To Doyoung, the feeling he got when he sang was something that kept him grounded, something that stayed the same in his life even when everything around him was changing.

He loved the versatility of it, how it was something he could play around with, improvise with. Something he could bend and shape according to his will. Something he could plant his emotions in and convey to people, in the hopes that it would give others the same comfort it gave him.

However, today, even as he was singing his new setlist of carefully curated Christmas-fitting songs he’d compiled during his lunch break that afternoon in between editing and going through what seemed like endless academic papers, Doyoung noticed that there was something different about the girl that always sat in the middle booth next to the bar.

He recognized her, of course. He found it easier to recognize her when she came with her blonde haired friend because when they were there, she was more animated, she would freely rant when she was angry, she laughed her heart out when she was happy, she let herself sink into fatigue when she was tired.

When they were alone, they seemed more _brooding_ , it was easier to miss from where he sat on the stage. Not that he missed it, Doyoung had figured he’d developed a certain kind of affinity to them when he noticed how on days when they came in alone, they would leave looking a little less upset, with a small smile on their face and a little more bounce to their step.

This time, something didn’t seem to be changing. If anything, they looked even more upset when he’d begun to sing his rendition of ‘ _Autumn in New York_ ’. Doyoung’s mouth was moving but his mind was elsewhere, watching as they had gotten up abruptly, making their way over to the bar, yet not moving to order anything extreme.

 _Were they planning on drinking a lot?_ Doyoung didn’t understand. _Did they not like the songs he’d chosen?_ He swore they sounded perfect to him when he’d listened to them over lunch.

Doyoung frowned, unsure why he was so upset over their reaction. It wasn’t anything to take personally, of course. But something in him felt almost _obligated_ to make sure they would feel better by the end of the night.

He barely noticed when his set ended, finding himself making his way over to the bar despite the looks he was getting from Sicheng, who knew very well that Doyoung was the last person to drink on a Friday night, not when he’d have early morning classes the next day.

Nonetheless, Doyoung felt almost unlike himself when he’d ordered something stronger than usual. Not beer, of course, he wasn’t a fan. He wanted something more along the lines of... _unconventional courage._

You leaned your head against your palm, supporting your head with your elbow on the grey marble bartop, sighing as you opened a text from Yuta asking for the new intern’s phone number, typing out your reply lazily with one hand.

9:34pm **\- get it yourself, i’m not helping you wingman -**

 **nayuta**  
9:34pm **\- it’s not wingman-ing, per se-**

You set your phone aside, not wishing to indulge Yuta just yet (you figured he could wait till tomorrow morning), more focused on getting rid of the sour feeling within you, almost forgetting what you were here for. Actually, what _were_ you here for?

You’d only realised then that the boy wasn’t singing anymore, and you’d been so absorbed in your thoughts that you’d practically missed his whole set, about to ask for a glass of water when a gentle voice had cut in.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

There was no other noise, aside from the soft piano drifting throughout the room and the small chatter from the nearby booths, his voice was loud and clear to you. Turning to face the direction of the sound, your gaze landed on the very boy you’d come to see tonight, though you weren’t sure if it was the dim light of the lounge or your tipsy state, but you couldn’t see much of his face.

“You,” you wished that wasn’t all you were able to get out, but it was, so you stuck with it. 

You watched the boy’s lips curl into a small smile, “Me.”

Trying not to get distracted by the way his tone was awfully gentle to you, almost as if he was afraid to scare you off, you shook your head in dismissal.

“Nothing, just... tough day at work.”

The boy huffed, nodding his head, “I’ll second that.” 

“Wanna vent?” he offered, “you seem like you need it.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly in shock, fiddling with your half empty cup as you thought of a response. You’d only just met, you didn’t want to bore him with the frustrations of your life already (no matter how much you felt compelled to).

A small huff of laughter escaped you and you shook your head at the boy, “Nah, I don’t wanna burden you.”

He was undeterred. 

“Try me.”

“Well, for starters, my boss shat on half my submissions so I’m gonna have to spend the weekend doing them,” you began, “not to mention I still have piles of paperwork i’ve yet to do...”

Doyoung understood that you were keeping your words vague for a reason, but he didn’t mind, nodding at you to continue.

“And let’s just say my job requires me to be a little... high energy, like, _all the time._ So i’m sure you can understand what I mean when I say I was already drained when Wednesday came around,” you laughed in spite of yourself, turning to glance at him and trying not to be shocked when you saw how intently he was listening to you.

Doyoung understood where you were coming from, with all his work and studying and taking care of Doha, it was hard sometimes for him to always try to show a happy, energetic side of him when all he’d wanted to do was take a nap on the floor as she played with her toys.

“It just kind of sucks more when you consider how close we are to Christmas. I can’t bring myself to enjoy the celebration as much as I used to,” you sighed, hearing him grunt in agreement, “sure, if I celebrate with my friends and family it’s fine because half the time i’m not actually thinking of it as a Christmas celebration but just a party.”

Doyoung cut in, “Nothing to do with the _Christmas Spirit_.”

You shot him a look, slightly amused.

“That’s exactly it,” you murmured, “when I talk to my kids they always tell me about how much they love Christmas, and I totally understand that. I used to _love_ Christmas, because to me it’s about gratitude and love and joy and family and friends and... _rest_. ”

Pausing to swallow the rest of your drink, you set the glass down on the table a little too harshly, continuing in spite of the glare Sicheng sent your way warning you not to damage his glassware, “Seems like these days Christmas is anything _but_ that.”

Doyoung was feeling the effects of whatever drink Sicheng gave him, not registering your mention of kids before his mind wandered straight to Doha. He always made sure Christmas celebrations were extravagant for her, wanting to make sure she could be happy during the season even if he was swamped with work and fatigue. He hadn’t planned anything for her this year, it had completely slipped his mind. _To him, he was still living in September._

“It’s like, I know at the end of the day I don’t really mind all the work I do because it makes the kids happy and that’s all that really matters to me but at the same time it just,” you inhaled deeply, releasing a shaky breath, “really takes a toll on me sometimes.”

You stared above the shelf of drinks, ignoring the prickly stinging at your eyes as you felt your vision blur and your cheeks get warm.

Doyoung hummed, “Like today.”

Doyoung was sure this had to be something divinely planned, that he would have chosen today of all days to talk to you and find that a lot of what you were feeling was similar to him, triggering him to think about things he’d been too busy to let himself dwell on, until now. Maybe the universe was putting you into his life to make him learn something, he figured.

You pressed your lips into a tight line, nodding, “Like today.” Your voice was barely audible.

You shook your head, clearing your throat softly, “What about you? What are you thinking so hard about?”

“No, it’s uh... what you said made me think about my sister,” he told you with a small sigh, “about how even though I want to do my best to provide for her and give her a good life and show her that, you know, the world can be good. It’s... tiring.”

Doyoung brought his cup to his lips, just to get the last few drops of his drink into his mouth, “Sometimes it feels like I’m not doing a good enough job as her brother, I can barely spend time with her as it is, and because of that there’s always this feeling that I should be doing more even though I’m at my wits end of how to give her all these things.”

You hummed, “I guess that’s just how it is.”

Doyoung raised his eyebrows at you, a small hum of confusion leaving him.

Huffing, you gave him a small smile, “Making that sacrifice. It’s just... what we do for the people, and things we love.”

You could hurl at yourself. _What had gotten into you?_ The boy shows up and suddenly you’re going on an emotional tipsy rampage on him.

Doyoung chewed on his lower lip pensively, and you swore you heard him swear under his breath as he nodded in understanding (and agreement) of your statement, something about your words striking a chord with him, again getting the feeling as though they were _meant_ to make him think about Doha.

Maybe Doyoung was taking your conversation too seriously, maybe Doyoung was just tired too, and overthinking was just his way of dealing with his fatigue or maybe it was whatever he drank, he was pretty sure it was only making him feel more tired than he already was.

But he still found himself looking at you, almost in a trance, hanging onto your next few words.

“Doesn’t have to be anything extravagant, I guess. You said just now that you can barely spend time with her, right? Maybe it’s a matter of making time, then. It sounds easier than it is, I know,” you smiled, “but sometimes the best kind of love is just showing them that you’re there for them.”

Maybe it was just this boy’s aura that comforted you, because you found yourself not feeling as bad as you did when you’d arrived here.

“Anyway, thanks for listening to me, but I need to get going,” you stood up, murmuring to Sicheng to put your drinks on Yuta’s tab, turning back to Doyoung to bid him goodbye without realising you were smiling, “have a good night.”

Doyoung saw it too, the silent affirmation of a job well done when he saw the soft smile grace your features, the way you’d nodded at him as he bid you goodbye and watched you leave with that familiar bounce to your step.

 _To the holiday season, and the hope for better days it kindled,_ you thought.

Pulling his phone out from his pocket out of his own little burst of motivation, Doyoung swiped over to Jungwoo’s chat.

10:03pm **\- I think i’ll pick Doha up from school on Monday-**

===  
  
“Are you ready? I’ve been waiting for _ages_.” Yuta’s voice whined over your speakerphone. Rolling your eyes, you’d slipped your shoes on, “don’t be dramatic, you literally _just_ arrived.”

Taking your bag and your keys, you locked your apartment door, bidding hello to the doorman on your way out, ending your call with Yuta as soon as you spotted his car parked next to the pavement.

“Took you long enough,” he grunted as you entered the car, sitting down with a small thud.

“Yeah, shut up,” you stuck your tongue out at him, scoffing as you watched him take his time to select his music.

You rolled your eyes, “and you couldn’t have done this while you were waiting for me?” 

A text came in from Johnny.

“Who’s that?” Yuta asked, setting his phone down into the cupholder, a Japanese rock song beginning to play in the car.

“Johnny, he says the turkey’s getting cold,” you teased, making Yuta laugh, rolling his eyes. “Okay, what did Johnny _really_ say,” he tried again.

Whipping your phone out, you saw that Johnny had taken a picture of a bottle of _Prosecco_ , saying he was at the mart and asking if you wanted it.

“He’s asking if I want wine,” you murmured, typing out your reply to Johnny saying that you’d just drink whatever he had in his house.

Johnny being Johnny, had replied that he would just get it anyway and you could have it if you changed your mind.

“Johnny’s never been one to stinge on friends,” Yuta hummed, “I love him.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, his sudden profession of love reminding you of the first Thanksgiving dinner Johnny had held back when you were all still in university, when you were a sophomore and Johnny was a senior along with Yuta. It had just so happened that you were all snowed in that year and flights were either cancelled or delayed, so you figured spending Thanksgiving with each other wouldn’t be such a bad option instead.

It had been something of a tradition after that, Johnny always being the unspoken host because of how much he loved Thanksgiving. The only thing that you would say changed was that as you grew older, your circles expanded, and you’d welcomed more people into the dinner each year.

It was always pleasant to meet the new people Johnny would invite, from the boyish junior from his workplace named Mark, to Mark’s college basketball teammate Ten. It seemed although each of you were so different, you still managed to remind each other a little bit of home, which was comforting especially during Thanksgiving.

Though this time, it seemed you were in for a surprise.

“Hey!” your head turned abruptly while you were in the middle of helping to set the table, spotting Johnny and another friend you’d made through Johnny’s parties, Taeyong, walking into the kitchen, both greeting you with wide smiles and warm hugs.

“How’ve you been?” Taeyong asked, wordlessly taking the rest of the fancy napkins from your hands and helping you place them on the various plates.

“Managing,” you smiled, “you know, the usual buzz whenever we start talking about Christmas in school.”

“I love that,” Johnny sighed wistfully, “in our office the most excitement comes in the form of the _secret santa_ exercises HR plans for us.”

“I’m so glad my childcare isn’t doing that this year. I’ve got barely enough time to get my work done as it is, much less think about Christmas shopping.”

“I’m assuming from that that you’ve still got the same amount of paperwork to do?” Taeyong asked, a small smirk playing at his lips and an eyebrow raised curiously at you, earning a loud sigh in response, the boy erupting in giggles at your reaction.

“What about you? You’re in Sales with Johnny, right?”

Taeyong shook his head, “I transferred to Marketing recently, figured it was more up my alley than Sales.”

Johnny huffed, “Yeah, he’s _betrayed_ me to go work with Jaehyun.”

You watched as he walked over to place the cans of beer he’d bought into the fridge, not missing the way he’d placed one into the freezer, turning to meet your questioning gaze and giggle as if he wasn’t just glaring at Taeyong, “That’s Taeil’s. He insists it’ll be the perfect temperature by dessert if I do this.”

“I didn’t _betray_ you,” Taeyong clucked his tongue, turning to shoot you a knowing look, “he’s been whining about it ever since I told him I was transferring.”

You nodded in understanding, a small giggle leaving you, Taeyong reaching over you to straighten out a few utensils you’d placed on the mat.

“Speaking of Johnny being dramatic, do you know if he invited anyone new this year? He refused to tell me, kept saying cryptic shit like _‘you’ll see_ ’,” you couldn’t help the smile from your face as you recounted Johnny’s words, Taeyong seeming to have known what you were referring to as well from the way his eyes had lit up.

“Because you _will_ see!” Johnny defended, insistent on maintaining whatever secrecy he had protecting his mystery guest.

You huffed, cringing at the memories of Johnny’s matchmaking tendencies back when you were in school. You’d seen your friends be at the receiving end of most of it, and it was safe to say it was really either a hit or miss with Johnny.

“I hope you’re not doing this because of why I think you’re doing this... ” your tone was warning, earning a shrug from Johnny.

“Well, everything I do for you is purely for your happiness,” he told you smoothly.

You narrowed your eyes at him, about to retort when Taeyong had answered.

“Well, Johnny did invite somebody! Well, _we_ did, actually,” Taeyong looked almost sheepish, rambling on, “it’s one of my friends, Doyoung. He’s actually in the living room, I can introduce you to him. I'm so glad he could finally make it, we’ve been inviting him for years. ”

Your eyebrows lifted, excited to meet someone new, though a part of you couldn’t help but be confused. _Was this person that busy?_

“Yeah, I was honestly expecting him to cancel,” Johnny remarked.

Taeyong led you out of the kitchen, the conversation and laughter from the guests getting louder as you walked through the narrow corridor.

“How do you guys know him?” you asked.

“I worked part time with him at the same restaurant back in college,” Taeyong told you, “I think you’ll get along well. He’s a great person.”

You watched curiously as Taeyong scanned the room, his eyebrows lifting and his smile widening as he raised one of his hands in a wave. Turning to you, he’d grabbed your hand eagerly, pulling you towards the television where you saw someone awfully familiar standing beside it.

You couldn’t help but frown, your mind trying to put a name on just where you’d seen this person from, especially when Johnny and Taeyong had introduced the both of you.

“I’m sorry, what was your name, again?” the boy asked, his voice triggering a memory in you of a night a week before, feeling as though you were transported back to the lounge and in your tipsy headspace again.

Doyoung seemed to have recognized you as well, tilting his head as his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, the grip of his fingers around the stem of his wine glass tensing.

“Y/N,” you murmured distractedly, “wait, have we met before?”

Doyoung hummed, a small laugh escaping him, “I was actually wondering the same thing...”

You missed the wide eyed look Taeyong had cast Johnny’s way, the former mouthing a ‘ _they know each other?_ ’ as Johnny looked on in amusement, bringing his glass of water to his lips to take a sip.

“You don’t happen to be that guy that sings at the lounge, do you?”

Doyoung’s lips parted, a flash of realisation twinkling in his eyes as his smile had widened, not being able to help but laugh in his surprise.

“You’re that girl I spoke to that day,” he announced, more for himself than for you. Something in the way he smiled made you believe he was happy to see you here.

Doyoung tried not to look too nervous when he’d seen how Johnny had almost taken a step closer, smiling wickedly at Doyoung as he leant his elbow on your shoulder.

“So you two have met before?” Johnny drawled, his fingers absently fiddling with your hair, his tone making Doyoung scoff, eager to shoo Johnny away.

Turning to lower his head, Johnny giggled, “So much for a surprise.”

Before you could question if this was Johnny’s _oh-so-secretive_ surprise for you, Doyoung cleared his throat.

“Yes, we have. Don’t you have a turkey to baste or something?” Doyoung insisted, Johnny erupting into a fit of giggles as he moved to grab Taeyong by the wrist.

“Fine, fine. We’ll leave you guys alone. Taeyong’s gotta help me with my turkey basting anyway.”

You waited anxiously as they left, hearing Taeyong’s echo of ‘ _Johnny did you even follow the recipe I gave you?_ ’ from the kitchen not long after, a part of you having grown more nervous now that you didn’t have the bolster of Taeyong and Johnny to support your conversation, but had to be alone with Doyoung instead, not being able to hide behind the dim lights and the cathartic conversation when you were in broad day(evening) light in Johnny’s living room.

“I didn’t think I’d be meeting you here of all places,” you confessed finally, a sheepish laugh leaving you.

Doyoung withheld the urge to tell you that his decision to attend Johnny’s party was last-minute for him as well, if not for Jungwoo’s sudden clearance in schedule that rendered him available to babysit Doha. He could almost hear Taeyong’s voice telling him an instance like this was definitely fated.

_Keep your cool, Doyoung._

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, not being able to handle the tension of the incessant flickering of his gaze between his glass and you, observing how he’d looked as though he’d had a million things to say but nowhere to start, so you figured you’d start for him.

“So, you’re Taeyong’s friend?”

_Again, Doyoung wished he didn’t feel as though he were on a blind date instead of a Thanksgiving party. He guessed he had Johnny to thank for that._

He nodded, “Yeah, I am. Met him in college when I was working part-time,” Doyoung downed the rest of his drink, rolling the sleeves of his blue pullover up to his elbows.

“What about you, how do you know him?” he asked.

“Oh, I was actually friends with Johnny first. I met Taeyong when Johnny introduced me to him at his birthday party a few years back,” you explained.

Doyoung huffed, nodding, not knowing what came over him when he’d remarked, “Yeah, you and Johnny seem close.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, unsure what to make of his statement, “Yeah... we are.”

About to respond to you, Doyoung’s statement had been drowned out by Johnny’s loud announcement beckoning for everyone to head over to the dining room, the chatter only having increased as everyone had made their way to the dining table, Doyoung taking a seat across from you and you taking a seat in between Taeyong and Yuta.

As usual, Johnny had given his speech, inviting everyone to each say something they were thankful for. Mark had gone first, saying something about how he was thankful that he’d been able to call his parents that weekend and have a talk with them, followed by Taeyong, who mentioned how he was thankful for a smooth transition into the Marketing team (much to Johnny’s feigned dismay).

Each thanks was followed with choruses of ‘ _yeah’s_ or ‘ _ooh’s_ and ‘ _ahh’s_ from the friends present, but you couldn’t help but glance to Doyoung, wondering why the boy had seemed to be taking this so seriously, glaring at the turkey with blazing eyes filled with thoughts.

“Okay, Y/N, your turn,” Johnny prompted, holding his camera up to point it towards you, knowing fully well that he was zooming in.

“I guess i’m thankful for the fact that I could set aside some time to come for this dinner today.” 

Johnny scoffed, “you _guess_? ” he teased, making you roll your eyes.

“I _am_ thankful.”

Yuta went next, and you couldn’t help but grow curious as to what Doyoung would say. You barely knew anything about him, something about hearing what a person was thankful for tended to give you a little more insight into their personality. So, maybe that was the reason why you were even more curious.

You wanted to know more about him, out of curiosity or concern, you weren’t bothered to discern it. All you knew was that you were trying to figure out if it was just the lighting of Johnny’s dining room or if he was actually _tearing up_.

“What are you thankful for, Doyoung?” Johnny asked, camera pointed towards his friend with a soft smile on face as he waited for them to answer.

Doyoung cleared his throat softly, a soft smile gracing his features as his eyebrows raised, a small sigh leaving him.

“I’m thankful that I can spend more time with my sister these days.”

You heard hums and coos of understanding, everyone taking that as a cue to start eating, though you didn’t miss the way he’d blinked rapidly, adjusting and readjusting his grip on his knife before he’d calmed down, beginning to eat normally.

During dinner, you’d made fair conversation with Doyoung, talking about the food and letting that lead you to other topics.

“Actually, Doyoung, I'm kind of curious,” Yuta began abruptly, his tone making your anxiety rise, shooting him a look as if to question where he was about to go with this.

He gave you a tired look, “C’mon, trust me.”

Doyoung’s eyebrows raised, perking up slightly, “What are you curious about?”

You watched, lower lip between your teeth as Yuta pointed his fork elsewhere, “Do you know if Sicheng is dating anyone?”

Barely stopping your jaw from dropping, you’d nudged him harshly with your knee, though the boy was unfazed, waiting for Doyoung’s response.

Doyoung’s eyebrows furrowed, “Sicheng? Uh... no, he’s not but... why were you curious about that?”

_Yuta was quick to throw you under the bus._

“Oh, no. Not me. I was asking for Y/N,” he smiled sweetly. If your jaw didn’t drop before, it sure did now.

Panicked, you shook your head quickly as you heard Doyoung let out a hum of surprise.

“Oh,” he looked taken aback, “you’re interested in Sicheng?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m not, I swear.”

Yuta frowned, turning to you with unabashed confusion written on his features, “But isn’t that why you keep going back to the lounge?”

Doyoung’s eyes were wide now, his utensils halting as he continued to chew on his food slowly, trying to think back to the days he’d seen you at the lounge. _You’d never moved to make conversation with Sicheng, since you were always at your booth, it wouldn’t really make sense that you came back for him, would it?_ Doyoung wondered.

“Were you even listening to me? I never said I was going back for Sicheng,” you snapped back at Yuta, desperate to salvage the situation and get Doyoung to stop looking so shocked.

“Actually, what _do_ you like about the place?” Doyoung dared to ask, swallowing what was left of his food in his mouth, “I mean, I know I work there but the place is only half par at best. I’m kind of curious about what you seem to like about it so much.”

You tensed up momentarily. _It wouldn’t make any sense for you to respond that it was because his voice served as your own personal ‘pick-me-up’, would it?_ So, you didn’t.

“The music...” you figured that was a less implicating response, “I like the music selection.”

Yuta huffed, “Oh, right. I remember that conversation now.”

You rolled your eyes at Yuta as Doyoung tried hard not to take that as a personal compliment (though he was very proud of his music selection), letting out a surprised sound.

“Really?” he smiled, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, as if realising how widely he was smiling, “I mean, wow, that’s nice... I’m glad you like it.”

Bored with your conversation, Yuta had decided to talk to Jaehyun instead, beginning to discuss their travel plans for the next time they were able to take time off from work. Leaving you once again _bolster-less_ , but this time you didn’t mind as much, finding Doyoung easier to talk to.

“I didn’t tell you this that day, but I quite liked the songs you chose on that day, you know, the whole uh...” maybe you were too quick to speak, you hated how much you were fumbling with your words, though Doyoung didn’t seem to mind, the way he’d simply looked patiently at you and waited for you to finish almost making you feel worse for fumbling.

Like you said, he made you feel comfortable, something you weren’t accustomed to feeling so quickly from someone you’d just started talking to.

“... The whole ‘ _White Christmas_ ’ thing,” you pressed your lips into a firm line.

“Oh, really? I was almost worried you—” Doyoung stopped himself in time, almost divulging that he was worried you hadn’t enjoyed the set from how pensive you looked that day, his eyes widening.

“Worried?” you asked.

“Oh, no, nothing,” he blurted quickly, a nervous laugh leaving him as he flashed you a gummy smile.

Scrunching your nose up, your gaze was skeptical but you dismissed it nonetheless.

With the guests starting to adjourn to the living room, some leaving early and Taeyong insisting on doing the dishes, it was almost unspoken that Doyoung and yourself had gone to the living room, Johnny having a Thanksgiving tradition of gathering to watch movies, the movie of the night being _Before Sunrise_ , courtesy of it being Jaehyun’s year to pick a movie.

Before you began, though, Mark had mentioned an absence of movie snacks, making Johnny halt the playing of the movie till snacks had been retrieved.

“I can go get them,” you offered, earning hums of agreement around the room.

Doyoung had almost offered to go with you, only to get interrupted by Yuta who had offered to go with you, hearing that he would drive you. Doyoung couldn’t argue with that, he didn’t have a car.

Only, he’d started to wish he did when you’d left and Johnny and Taeyong had made his way over to where Doyoung sat on the sofa, a cheshire grin on the former’s face.

“So, how are you finding the party?” Johnny started, earning a snicker from Taeyong.

“I can’t believe you’re even bothering to build it up,” he commented, turning to Doyoung to deadpan, “he wants to know what you think of Y/N.”

Doyoung thought back to the closeness he sensed between you and Johnny, how Johnny had fiddled with your hair absently, or had no qualms about initiating small physical touch with you in how he would rest his hand on your shoulder or ruffle your hair (and contrastingly, smooth it back for you afterwards).

“Hey dude, can I open the _Prosecco_?” Mark’s voice cut in, Johnny’s head lifting slightly to shake his head.

“Nah, dude. That’s Y/N’s.” _or that,_ Doyoung huffed.

Trying to remain as neutral as possible, Doyoung hummed, “they’re... a conversationalist.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, slumping down onto the sofa next to Doyoung who avoided Johnny’s gaze like the plague. He knew it wasn’t safe, Johnny could always see right through him.

“Okay, now pretend you’re _not_ at a job interview and answer me again.”

Taeyong eyed Doyoung closely, “I mean, you _have_ been talking to her for most of the evening, so I would assume you don’t hate her.”

“Why are you guys making such a big deal out of me talking to Y/N?”

Johnny grinned, “because,” he started with a matter-of-fact tone, “I’ve been wanting you to meet her for a while now. Just wanna know my efforts haven’t totally gone to waste.”

“So, basically, you’re trying to set me up with her,” Doyoung sighed.

Scoffing, Johnny’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised in offence, “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Doyoung groaned, “ _Please_ don’t say anything to her, I’d like to get to know her _normally_ and let it unfold _normally_. Plus, you’ve chosen the wrong time for it. It’s Christmas, _everyone_ wants to have someone to spend the season with.”

“So you _do_ want to get into a relationship!” Johnny’s excitement bubbled through his tone. 

Taeyong hummed simultaneously, “On the contrary, I think it’ll help you get into a more romantic mood.”

Johnny nudged Taeyong slightly, “I think you’re forgetting the fact that Doyoung’s been single since... _ever_. He needs guidance.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes.

“My love life is not your personal pride project.”

“Think carefully, Doyoung. I’ve carefully considered each of your personalities and life situations and considered how that would mesh with each other.” Johnny spoke seriously, and Taeyong would have laughed at how Johnny was using his ‘presentation’ voice if he wasn’t so invested in the proposal as well.

“Oh yeah, _sure_ , just email me the excel sheet and i’ll consider,” Doyoung waved him off, trying his best to mask his anxiousness at the discovery that Johnny was in fact not interested in you.

“Fine, _someone’s_ snappy,” Johnny raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his face lingered, “it’s cool. I’ll give you some time to, you know, _mull it over._ But you’d be surprised, Doyoung, your lives are more intertwined than you think they are.”

Doyoung’s smile was patronising, “Yeah, whatever, I'll _mull it over._ ”

Though he played it off as if he wouldn’t have spared another thought to Johnny’s proposal, he sure did mull over it. He thought about it even as you were sat next to him on the sofa, knees hugged to your chest as you watched the movie intently, a small smile on your face at certain scenes that Doyoung would’ve probably blushed at too if he wasn’t so busy reading into the lead characters’ relationship.

Something about Jesse and Celine’s relationship seemed so natural, yet so universally destined. _Was that how love was supposed to work?_

There was truth to what Johnny said about Doyoung being inexperienced in relationships, though Doyoung never saw that as a bad thing. The only thing he figured he ever loved in his life was Doha, and his friends. But it was nothing like the love they were showing on screen, romantic love. Doyoung hadn’t felt that before.

 _But then again, how hard could it be, right?_ It seemed doable to him, even if there was no concrete action plan or systematic way to go about it. Even Jesse and Celine’s dialogue made it seem as though love was just... _improvising_. It was spontaneous, intuitive, illogical; all the things Doyoung wouldn’t have immediately associated with himself.

Doyoung felt Johnny shift in his seat in front of him, hearing him mutter to you, “That’s you and that guy you had a crush on in college.”

Doyoung frowned, trying to pay attention to what Celine’s character was saying to get some context on the situation, hearing her talking about a shrink.

_“She said, looking deep into my eyes, “The way you said it, I know you are going to do it.”_

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well Johnny was referring to the one-sided crush you had on one of his ethics class groupmates.

You shoved Johnny harshly, the said boy erupting in a fit of stifled laughter, “Very funny.”

Doyoung couldn’t help himself from leaning over, “What did she say? Why’d Johnny say it was you?”

You shook your head, an amused smile on your face as you took another sip of your drink, Doyoung noticing that you hadn’t drank the wine Johnny bought for you, “She’s talking about how she would write little stories of how she would kill her ex-boyfriend hypothetically.”

Doyoung’s eyes widened, a small laugh leaving him, “Should I be worried?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not bothering to contain your smile as you shook your head, “No... not yet, ” you teased.

You would’ve paid more attention if you didn’t start to feel tired when it was almost eleven, your usual sleep schedule from work making your bedtime awfully early whether you liked it or not, Doyoung trying to remember that you were in fact _not_ Doha and he couldn’t just bring his hand up to make you rest your head against him to sleep comfortably.

He’d figured it was a blessing that his tension could dissipate slightly when the movie ended, standing up too fast and startling you awake with a jump, your sleepy gaze meeting his with an embarrassed smile on your face.

Yuta had only needed one look at you to recognize your post-sleep daze, having seen a lot of it in the time you two had spent working together, snickering as he shook his head, “forgot it was past your bedtime.”

You sighed, scrunching your eyes shut tightly and opening them, fumbling for your phone and shoving it into your pocket lazily after checking the time, “I should probably head home now if I don’t wanna end up crashing at Johnny’s house.”

“Are you heading home already?” Taeyong asked, earning a call of affirmation from you as you were already making your way to the kitchen, your response getting Johnny’s attention and hearing him asking you to bring the bottle of wine home.

Once in the kitchen, you’d fished the bottle from the fridge, Johnny coming in not long after with a bag for you to put the bottle in, handing it to you with a small smirk on his face.

“Do I even want to ask why you’re looking like that?” you laughed, earning a shake of the head from Johnny.

“What? Can’t I be happy on Thanksgiving?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, bye Johnny.”

Pulling you into a hug, Johnny turned his head slightly to murmur, “Go ahead, Doyoung’s waiting for you.”

You frowned, leaning away just so he could see you glaring at him, distracted when you heard Yuta ask if you needed a ride, you shoved Johnny’s grip off of you, raising your hand.

“Yes, please.”

“Doyoung, I can send you back too,” Yuta offered, earning a quick nod from him.

Shooting one last glare at Johnny, you bid the rest goodbye and followed behind Yuta out the door, Doyoung walking beside you with his hands shoved into his black coat pockets.

“It’s a lot colder than I expected it to be,” Yuta shivered, quickening his pace to reach his car, with you humming in agreement behind him. Doyoung seemed to be the only one who had foresight and dressed warmly.

“You should wear warmer clothes, it’ll get colder this time of the year,” he told you, a small hint of amusement to his tone at the way you were jogging to Yuta’s car, begging him to turn on the heating before you froze to death.

“I know, I should’ve seen it coming,” you laughed, ignoring the way his concern had almost made you flush, getting into the front seat and leaning your head against the dashboard as you waited for Doyoung and Yuta to make themselves comfortable.

“So, who am I sending first?” Yuta asked, you and Doyoung exchanged expectant looks with each other before Doyoung cleared his throat.

“You can drop Y/N off first,” Doyoung offered, his hand coming up to gesture towards you, earning a small nod from you.

The car ride was awkward to say the least, or well, maybe it was only awkward for Doyoung. You were in the front seat about to doze off again to the soft Christmas music playing on the radio, while Doyoung was trying to navigate the billion thoughts in his head, ranging from whether Jungwoo had managed to get Doha asleep yet to what Johnny had said about you, to what he needed to get done before another round of part-time work the next day.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he’d barely noticed Yuta pulling into his street, making his eyebrows perk up in surprise.

“I thought you were dropping Y/N off first?”

You were shocked awake by Doyoung’s voice, your head shooting up abruptly and glancing around, trying to orientate yourself, realising you were almost home when you’d spotted the gates of your small estate. You figured one of the good things about your estate was that it was small enough that it only had a few floors, with 2 people living on each floor. But even in spite of that, you didn’t have to interact much with your neighbours, something you had to admit you were a little thankful for after hearing all of Yuta’s horror stories from his own apartment complex.

Yuta hummed, “Yeah, I am. Why?”

Doyoung let out a small huff of breathy laughter, “Well, uh... I live here.”

The sound that left you was somewhere in between confusion and shock.

“Here? Like in _this_ estate?” You pointed out of the window at your building, seeing him look at you with wide eyes, nodding slowly as a small smile made its way on his face.

“Yes... here.” Doyoung pointed towards the building as well.

A silence ensued between yourself and Doyoung, Yuta staring blankly between the both of you.

“Okay, congratulations, now can the both of you get out, you’re wasting my gas.”

Rolling your eyes at Yuta, you’d complied, getting out and hugging your arms to yourself as you waited for Doyoung to get out as well, the both of you walking in silence until you were past the gate.

“Wanted to ask you this since just now, but I’m only remembering now,” you laughed, turning to look at him and meeting his gaze, seeing him nod as a prompt for you to continue, “you mentioned just now that you managed to spend more time with your sister, right?”

Doyoung’s lips parted, not having expected you to ask that, his tongue coming out to wet his lips before he spoke, a small embarrassed smile on his face (why? Doyoung didn’t know either, maybe it was the flattery of having you remember that conversation), “Yeah, actually, I did. I’ve been picking her up from school more often and we’ll try making dinner together, and I try to bring her to the library with me on weekends, though we’re still _trial-ing_ that bit because she’s a little too energetic for the library.”

You didn’t notice your smile growing as you listened to him, something about the knowledge of his situation improving slightly managing to warm your heart.

“What about you? Have you been coping better at work?” he asked as you walked into the lobby, pressing the button for the elevator before waiting, Doyoung standing a little too far apart from you in his nervousness.

You purse your lips, opening your eyes wider in an attempt to fight your fatigue, a yawn leaving you, holding a hand up to ask Doyoung to wait as he watches in amusement.

“Yeah, I have, actually. Though I still have tons of work to go home to, it’s... a little bit better after I talked to you, to be honest,” you told him, “kind of helped me remember why I took my job in the first place... even though sometimes it feels like i’m just sitting on the floor in my own little bubble and I know I should get up because everyone else is coping better and everyone else is always telling me to just get back on my feet and the world is just going on without me.”

You heard the elevator ding, Doyoung letting you go inside first and pressing the button of your floor, your heart almost swelling when you realised that he lived on the floor just below yours.

Standing across from you, Doyoung leant against the railing of the elevator, looking at you with a tired smile on his face.

“What?” you asked, a nervous giggle escaping you as well, unsure why the way he was looking at you was enough to fill you with an almost unfamiliar giddy feeling.

_Had it really been that long since you’d liked someone?_

Pressing his lips together in a firm line, he’d looked as if he’d wanted to say something but was embarrassed to say it. Doyoung brought a hand up to cover his mouth, looking up as his smile widened.

“Just... it’s okay if you feel like you can’t get up sometimes,” he began, “that floor that you sit on when you feel like giving up... even that world that feels like the floor could be a good world... so it’s okay.”

There it was again, that gentle tone of voice, the _awkward tenderness_ of his words, something about it made you feel inexplicably drawn to him, something about it filled you with comfort, what you previously thought you could only find when he sang.

You heard him laugh, “I’m sorry, was that too much? I meant it, really.”

You shook your head, not being able to help but laugh as well.

“No, no, I liked it. Thank you, Doyoung.”

Doyoung pressed his lips into a firm line, “It’s strange... It’s funny how we’re only meeting now when we’ve both known Johnny for a long while now.”

You shrugged, glancing up to see you were already nearing his apartment floor, the elevator dinging to signal the doors opening.

“Maybe it’s because of, you know, how people don’t usually mix their friend groups... you know, different personalities and dynamics and all.”

You reached a hand out to hold the elevator open, letting him step out before he turned to face you again, his eyes holding an emotion you couldn’t place.

You wouldn’t have known that Doyoung was thinking about how nice you looked under the warm lights of the elevator, the slight messiness of your hair from falling asleep everywhere you went, the small smile playing at your lips. With Johnny’s intervention or not, Doyoung was glad to have met you, a new friend. _Maybe Christmas wasn’t looking so bleak for him this year, after all_.

“Funnily enough, I don’t think we’re that different,” Doyoung murmured. 

Staring at him blankly, you nodded, knowing you felt that way as well. 

“We’ll see...” you smiled, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N. See you soon.”

You watched Doyoung enter his apartment before you let the elevator doors close. 

_To Christmas, and the anticipation it sparked.  
_  
===

“What’s your shift like this week?” you asked Yuta. It’d been almost a week since Johnny’s Thanksgiving party, and you had to admit, you were feeling a lot better. You supposed it was just the loneliness and _nostalgia_ from Christmas that was getting to you, because of course, you would never admit to yourself that Doyoung’s entrance into your life had filled you with all sorts of excitement and giddiness you weren’t ready to address.

Yuta snickered, “I’ll cut to the chase. I put you on closing shift with me.” 

Your lips parted, narrowing your eyes at him, “First of all, how dare y—”

“C’mon, it’s not that bad!” Yuta reasoned, “the only kids that are still here by then are mostly from your class anyway, you won’t have a problem.”

You huffed, “It’s only those two that leave late, right?” you gestured to the two children in your class that you knew tended to leave later because both parents worked full-time.

Yuta shook his head, a small grunt leaving him as he spoke over his mouthful of food, using his fork to point at the girl with short, shoulder length black hair sleeping soundly on her mattress, her curly hair messy over her forehead and her baby blue blanket covering her snugly.

“Doha too.”

You frowned, “Doha? Why? Doesn’t Jungwoo usually come at like four?”

Yuta nodded, “that’s what I thought too, but I heard from Seungmin that Dongyoung’s been picking her up.”

Your eyes widened, “ _Dongyoung_?”

If Yuta was amused, you couldn’t tell, if anything he looked like a gossipy aunt as he leaned closer to you, “Right? M’kind of curious to see what he looks like, though. I heard he’s pretty good-looking.”

“Really? He’s not that old either, right?”

Yuta nodded, “Seungmin says he looks like he’s around our age.”

“The records don’t say anything much about him right?”

Yuta shook his head, “But I _do_ know he was an absolute menace when Doha was in infant care, he was like... a keyboard warrior but in her parent teacher communication book.” 

“Menace? What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know for sure because all of this was from what I heard from her old teacher, but she said he was really particular about what the childcare was doing, he was really... I could understand that he wanted the best for her but he was really micromanaging,” Yuta divulged, “but from what I’ve heard and seen, he’s calmed down a lot more, especially ever since Jungwoo started coming to pick Doha up.”

You hummed. It was true, you had barely needed to feedback about areas of concern regarding Doha since you started teaching her. If anything she was a very sweet, well-mannered child, with playful tendencies.

“That’s good, at least. I wouldn’t want to deal with the micromanaging side of him.”

Yuta giggled, “hopefully, you’ll only have to deal with the good-looking side. Hey, maybe if he’s single you can, you know... ask him out. Give Doha some _one-on-one tutoring_. ” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

A small gasp left your parted lips, “First of all, that’s _illegal_ , I can’t give her tuition. Second of all, I don’t date parents.”

As if he hadn’t heard you, Yuta let out a hum, “ _Technically_ , he’s her guardian.”

“Shut up, Yuta. I’m not having this conversation with you. I don’t date parents and that’s final.”

Raising his hands up beside his head, Yuta poorly stifled his laughter with one hand, “Fine, fine. If you insist.”

You’d been watching the children play with their toys later on in the day, glancing at the clock and seeing that it was almost sixin the evening. Deciding that if you hadn’t tried doing something, you would’ve ended up feeling bored out of your mind, you called Doha over to one of your tables, figuring you’d might as well let her do the craft that she hadn’t done today yet.

“Do you wanna make a bracelet or a necklace, Doha?”

She thought about it seriously, frowning at the beads in the box in front of her, “I want to make two bracelets.”

You huffed, a small smile directed towards her, figuring that could work as well since you had time, not sure if Dongyoung would come to pick her up anytime soon.

You watched as she held the string tightly in her hand, working carefully to string the large and medium sized beads onto the twine you’d given her, propping your elbow on the table and leaning your head against your palm as you watched her.

“Who are you making the bracelet for, hmm?”

“This one for... Do-ie,” she spoke, stringing a butterfly bead carefully onto the twine, looking up at you with wide eyes as she awaited your response.

“What about the other bracelet?” you asked, gesturing to the bracelet she’d already made that you were currently helping her to tie a knot to finish.

“For you,” she giggled, your smile widening at her statement.

“Really? For me? You don’t want to give it to Jungwoo?”

She shook her head, “Jungwoo can share with Do-ie.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she was completely serious about it, “Are you sure you don’t want to give it to Jungwoo?”

She shook her head, “Tomorrow I can make one for Jungwoo,” she told you, which in kid language, you knew held no certainty. For them, the word tomorrow could cover from the next day to further in the future.

You watched as she mixed a variety of beads on the string, even going to the extent of making patterns with two colours of the beads, shoving it towards you when she’d deemed herself done.

As you helped her tie a knot for the second bracelet as well, she’d watched in excitement as your fingers worked. She had taken the liberty of grabbing the bracelet on the table, insisting on helping you wear it now despite yourself being busy helping to tie a knot for her other bracelet, practically trying to shove it over your knuckles.

“Okay, okay, wait, hold on, Doha,” you laughed, setting the bracelet down as you held a hand out for her, the bracelet she was holding sliding over your hand after a little effort from the four year old.

As you were about to ask her more questions about the bracelet and necklace, you felt someone tap you on the shoulder, turning to see Yuta, “Dude, Doyoung’s here.”

“ _Doyoung_?” you repeated, shocked to say the least, “what is he doing here?”

Yuta shrugged, “Beat’s me, maybe he wanted to find you? You should—”

“Doha, you’re going home!” one of the teachers had called out after spotting Doyoung at the door, your heart sinking within you.

_There was no way this was happening._

Your body moving before you could register, you’d found yourself standing at the door, staring at Doyoung with pure unadulterated shock written on your face, and now that he had spotted you, you saw it on his as well.

“You work here?” he asked, his tone doing nothing to hide his shock. He was wearing his glasses today, thin, round framed spectacles only making his eyes look even bigger if that was possible.

You nodded, “You’re here for...”

“Do-ie!” you heard from behind you, Doha running past you with her backpack bouncing on her back, running into Doyoung’s legs and wrapping her arms around his leg tightly, the bracelet she had made for him swinging from her tight grip.

“My sister, Doha.”

You were practically spiralling as you worked to check Doha out of the system, something about your talk at the lounge and whatever you knew about Doha starting to make a little more sense, but still not that much sense.

“You... your uh... real name is Dongyoung?”

 _Why did it have to be him of all people?_ Of course he was good-looking, and _of course_ he had to be related to one of your students.

He nodded, scrunching his nose up, one of his hands moving to smooth down Doha’s hair, tucking her hair behind her ears and smiling down at her. Directing his attention back to you, he cleared his throat softly, “Legal name. You can uh... just call me either.”

Doyoung huffed, _so much for Johnny having ‘considered’ each of your situations in matchmaking the both of you._

“Funny, how we keep running into each other like this,” Doyoung huffed, making you let out something in between a hum and a laugh.

“Yeah... funny.”

Doyoung quirked an eyebrow at you, “You don’t seem very happy to see me?”

Your eyes widened, eyebrows raising, “Don’t I?”

_Yeah, maybe you just weren’t used to finding out the boy you were crushing on had fallen under your ‘no dating allowed’ category._

“This one is for you,” Doha held the bracelet up to him, waving it around as the beads clinked against each other, and you watched as Doyoung cooed over her craft, ushering her to sit down on one of the small stools at the entrance so she could wear her shoes.

If you weren’t still recovering from your shock you probably would have laughed at the sight, Doyoung struggling to get her shoes on as she worked on getting the bracelet onto his wrist, yanking his hand from her shoes with all her might.

“I made one for Teacher Y/N too!” she announced, stomping her foot that was already wearing a shoe onto the ground as she gestured towards the bracelet around your wrist.

Doyoung withheld his urge to comment on the matching colour schemes, choosing instead to hum and raise his tone slightly to reply, “Wow, that’s very nice of you, baby.”

“Are you working late? I don’t remember seeing you the past few weeks when I came to pick her up,” Doyoung asked, earning a curt nod from you, something within you feeling as though you needed to remain professional now that you had this newfound knowledge of who exactly Doyoung was.

“Yeah, I’m on closing shift these two weeks.”

Doyoung nodded, sensing your change in demeanour as well, not to mention how tightly you were holding onto the electronic tablet as you spoke to him.

Taking hold of Doha’s hand, the small girl waving incessantly at you, Doyoung had nodded, “alright... have a good dinner, I’ll see you around.”

Walking back through the doors of the childcare, you spotted Yuta tearing his face from the window where you assumed he’d been watching your interaction with Doyoung, the boy making his way over to you with wide eyes and a smirk playing at his lips.

“So, date?”

Your hand fiddling with Doha's bracelet around your wrist, a part of you almost feeling reluctant to take it off.

You brushed past Yuta, rolling your eyes, “I’m going to the washroom.” 

===

That night, you’d texted Johnny on your way home.

7:30pm **\- you know I don’t date my students’ parents right -**

 **Johnny**  
7:31pm **\- yes??? I know that -**

7:31pm **\- and you do know that doyoung’s practically doha’s dad, right? -**

 **Johnny**  
7:31pm **\- he’s her brother!! There's a difference, babe -**

7:32pm **\- yeah, her brother AND her primary caregiver. It’s unprofessional for me to date him and you know that -**

Johnny  
7:32pm **\- c’mon it’s not even that big of a deal! You guys are like almost the same age -**

7:32pm **\- the parents would have a field day if they found out, johnny... it’d ruin both of our reputations, not to mention create problems for Doha as well -**

You’d found out earlier that Doyoung also didn’t necessarily have the best relationship with the parents, Seungmin having mentioned that he had usually been quite snarky with them, not giving in to any of the rumours and gossip they’d tried to stir up about him or Doha.

 **Johnny**  
7:32pm **\- there's a simple solution for all of this -**

7:33pm **\- yeah, to Not date him. -**

 **Johnny**  
7:33pm **\- secret relationship! -**

You’d refused to reply him.

 **Johnny**  
7:35pm **\- c’mon y/n pls give him a chance!! if i didn’t do this for him he’d really stay single forever -**

7:35pm **\- ok so match him up with someone else that’s not his sister’s teacher :( -**

 **Johnny**  
7:35pm **\- at least talk to him first, try to understand his situation more... u know i’d have a good reason for thinking that you would be good for each other -**

 **Johnny**  
7:36pm **\- and plus, I'm pretty sure he’s interested in you already ... u didnt hear this from me (if anything it was taeyong) -**

7:37pm **\- there’s no way of proving that -**

As if the universe was trying to rebut you, you’d received a text not long after from an unknown number.

 **Kim Doyoung**  
7:40pm **\- Hi, this is Doyoung. Sorry if this is sudden, I got your number from the parent chat group. Was wondering if you’d wanted to grab a cup of coffee with me this weekend? -**

Maybe your words were coming back to bite you in the ass.

You texted Johnny quickly.

7:40pm **\- ok i take it back he just asked me out for coffee this weekend -**

 **Johnny**  
7:42pm **\- you see???? He’s i n t o you... and you’re not even trying to do anything -**

7:42pm **\- that's because he doesn't know what this means for him... i’m srs johnny if any of the other parents see us getting coffee together theyre gonna get the wrong idea -**

 **Johnny**  
7:43pm **\- then wake up earlier! beat the morning crowd! I’ll tell u what, just go with him once, and wtv you do from there is your business, i wont bother you about it anymore-**

7:43pm **\- fine but if i lose my teaching license its your fault-**

 **Johnny**  
7:44pm **\- god you're so dramatic -**

Swiping back to Doyoung’s chat, you let out a loud sigh, rolling over in your bed and kicking at your blanket before you finally replied his message and hating how formal you sounded with every word you typed.

7:45pm **\- Hello Doyoung, that sounds nice. Did you have a specific location in mind?-**

“I really appreciate you meeting me for coffee, I’m just sorry it had to be arranged at this time, I had a class before this,” Doyoung nudged his glasses higher on his nose bridge.

You were sat across from Doyoung at a small café in your neighbourhood the next weekend.

Dressed more casually today in a grey pullover and dark blue jeans, he looked like any other college student your age, aside from the fact that he was very much more attractive.

“Before this?” You thought about what time he would’ve needed to wake up, “that’s really early.”

“What about Doha?” you asked, not being able to help but glance around the quaint café you were seated at, nervous about being here with Doyoung.

_It was stupid, really, if you hadn’t found out he was Doha’s brother, you wouldn’t have been feeling so on edge._

Your question earned a small huff of laughter from him, finding it amusing how that was the first thing you’d asked about.

“Jungwoo slept over at my apartment last night, so he’s with her now. They went to the park,” he told you, “since I'm usually busy until about... mid-afternoon.”

“Ohh,” you hummed, the jingling of the doorbells making your head snap to the door quickly, Doyoung not being able to help himself from laughing, his laughter catching your attention as you shot him a wide-eyed look.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows raising as he laughed, “you seem really... jittery.”

Using your hands to cover your face, you brought one hand down to wave it at him in dismissal, “I’m really sorry, it’s just... I don’t want any parents coming in and seeing us and like... getting the wrong idea or anything.” You leant over to pull your straw up slightly, taking a sip of your drink to try to ease your tension.

“That we’re on a date?”

You sputtered over your drink slightly, grabbing a tissue from the table quickly to wipe your mouth, not having expected him to be so upfront about it. Though at the same time, not being able to do anything but nod, a weak mutter of ‘yeah’ leaving you.

“I mean, I don’t think that’s much of a problem,” he attempted to assure you, earning an unsure hum from you.

Grasping the tissue tightly in your hand, you shook your head, “Doyoung, I like to keep my relationship with my student’s families strictly professional.”

Doyoung scrunched his nose up, “Is that so?... Johnny never mentioned anything about that,” he muttered.

“Johnny?”

“Nothing,” he smiled, “anyway, It’s fine. I like talking to you, regardless. Doesn’t have to be a date.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, nodding slowly, “Yeap... not a date.”

“So uh... what are you working as?” you asked. You knew that he had part time gigs like what he was doing at the lounge but you knew he was older than you, curious as to what he was doing right now.

“I’m actually doing my masters in Scenography,” he took a sip of his coffee, and you momentarily wondered how he could still manage to drink iced coffee when it was already beyond cold out, your attention diverted back to the topic at hand.

“Scenography,” your tone was impressed, “That’s cool, so you’re interested in acting and production?”

He smiled, nodding at you, “Yeah. I’m actually aiming for a job as a stage manager.”

Your eyes widened, “that sounds really interesting, thankfully I know a bit about that because Johnny was pretty involved in the theatre back in high school.”

“Yeah,” Doyoung groaned, though the smile remained on his face nonetheless, “he keeps asking me if that means he can get free tickets to shows.”

“Can you?” you feigned seriousness, making Doyoung roll his eyes.

“Not you too.”

“I’m kidding, so, uh... when do you graduate?”

“This year, actually,” he murmured, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, a small hint of a smile on his face.

You couldn’t help yourself from being curious, “I’m sorry I’m asking this, but I’m just wondering... how old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” he answered simply, “Johnny told me you were around my age, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, as a matter of fact I’m just a year younger than you,” you said with a small smile, glad that at least Johnny wasn’t lying about you and Doyoung being around the same age.

“That’s cool, though, that you’re studying that... who knows, I might call on you for help for the kids’ graduation concerts, if you’d be willing.”

“Yeah, of course,” Doyoung winced at how quickly he’d answered you, masking it with a small laugh, “I mean, yeah, just uh... let me know whenever you need me.”

You couldn’t help but question his willingness, something about your many questions still feeling up in the air when it came to Doyoung. “It’s alright, I’ll try not to wear your phone line out, I'm sure you’re busy as it is.”

That seemed to have drawn Doyoung back to reality, his lips pursing as he gave you a grim nod, “Yeah...”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this... can I safely assume it’s just you and Doha at home?”

Doyoung stared at you blankly, nodding dumbly. Usually he would have been afraid for what was about to come next, but something about the way you were looking at him made him think otherwise, it was a wonder how he didn’t piece together sooner who the _Teacher Y/N_ Doha always talked lovingly about was you. He figured, if you’d always made sure his sister was treated with such care and concern, he could trust you that much.

“Yeah... it’s kind of messy but... my dad left my mom when Doha was still a baby,” he cleared his throat, “it was honestly a really big mess, and she wasn’t necessarily coping very well... started going into alcohol and she was just out of the house all the time, so when I stopped being able to contact her I just... figured I had to step up.”

Doyoung glanced at you, as if gauging your reaction to his words, “You know, be someone that Doha could depend on.”

You nodded, something about the way Doyoung spoke sounding almost strained, “I’m sure that wasn’t easy... I really... respect you for doing that.”

Doyoung let out a huff of bitter laughter, “I mean, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice. But I would’ve chosen to do the same no matter what, I loved Doha, and I knew I just needed to protect her, give her a good life, let her grow up in a good environment.”

There was something pained about the way he spoke, a bitterness to his tone, something you weren’t sure how to navigate, not sure if words of comfort would’ve done anything to help, though your curiosity seemed to get the better of you.

Doyoung shrugged, “You don’t have to feel bad or anything, she’s never actually... cared about Doha.”

You nodded slowly in understanding, trying to process the insight you’d gained on his and Doha’s situation, “I’m guessing that’s why you take up all those part-time jobs?” you chose to murmur, earning a nod from him.

“Yeah, which also kind of explains why I couldn’t pick Doha up from school a lot ‘cause i’d be working, I’ve just managed to get a little more free time recently because my classes are ending and I managed to change my shifts.”

You let out a small sigh, taking a long sip from your drink, “You’re a really great brother, Doyoung.”

Doyoung had to stop himself from laughing, letting go of his glass to run a hand through his hair, nudging his glasses higher on his nose bridge.

“Barely. I have my moments too... sometimes it’s hard for me to manage her especially after long days...” he glanced at you knowingly, “and you know how Doha’s playfulness is.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement from knowing exactly what he was referring to. You could almost imagine the way Doha would practically be bouncing off the walls while a tired Doyoung tried to keep up with her.

You don’t know what compelled you to say your next words, but whatever it was, you were just glad Johnny wasn’t here to laugh at you for it.

“Well... if you ever need help with Doha on days like those, I’m always here.”  
Doyoung quirked an eyebrow at you, a small smirk playing at his lips, “thought you said you’d prefer to keep our relationship _strictly professional_?”

Just like that, you wondered how it was possible for him to switch back to tease you like this, looking as though he was very much enjoying himself watching you fumble to save yourself.

Your lips parted, shaking your head quickly, trying to cover up for your slip-up despite the warmth flooding to your face and neck.

“I mean, there’s nothing unprofessional about school-family collaboration... I meant I would give you _advice_ , not go over to your house or anything,” you scoffed, trying to ignore the way amusement was written all over Doyoung’s features.

“Shut up,” you added. _Just for good measure._

“I never said anything,” he sing-songed, twirling his straw around in his cup nonchalantly.

“But yeah... I do think it’d be good for Doha... she seems to like you a lot,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Leaning closer to you, he held a hand up next to his mouth, “don’t worry, I won’t tell the parents or anything.”

You rolled your eyes, though a part of you couldn’t help but be filled with a strange sort of warmth, wondering how a moment so juvenile could fill you with such happiness, a strange sense of gratitude washing over you in that moment. Grateful to have made a new friend. Strictly... _professional_ friends.

_To Christmas, and the warmth each exchange brought._

===

You would’ve laughed in Johnny’s face when he’d asked you a few days later whether you would consider Doyoung if you weren’t so affected by your thoughts of the very boy.

Ever since that day you’d met him for coffee, it was like you’d been put under a spell. You’d been texting each other almost as often as you texted Yuta, even if it were under the pretense of checking in on Doha, or something as ‘ _unnecessary_ ’ as a good morning, and each time you saw him arrive at the childcare to pick Doha up, it was as if he knew what kind of effect he had on you, not bothering to tone down his flirtatious tone and heavy implication even when there were other parents around, rendering you as the one to act stiff and cold.

And somewhere in between, even if you weren’t aware of it, coming to the lounge became something outside of just a ‘pick-me-up’, finding that you had started going just for the sake of seeing Doyoung, and the excuse of being able to go home with him afterwards.

Call you crazy, but it was as if tough days didn’t feel as tough when you could look forward to hearing Doyoung singing and conversing with him to end your day.

Doyoung would never tell you either, that he’d started looking forward to spotting you sitting in your usual booth, though this time, it was with a small smile on your face when you would meet his eyes instead of your usual broody sulky demeanour. Doyoung almost thought he was losing it when love songs seemed to take on another meaning to him.

The reality of it all was that Christmas was coming soon, and it seemed that for the first time in a while, that actually _meant_ something to the both of you.

You’d stayed later in the childcare that day despite not being on the closing shift, figuring you’d might as well get the rest of your filing done while you were in a more productive mood, seeing a text come in from Doyoung asking if you’d gotten home safely yet, saying he was on his way to pick Doha up from school.

6:05pm **\- nope, i’m still in the centre, decided to get some filing done -**

“Y/N,” you heard one of the newer interns murmur to you, concern mixed with fear in her wide eyes as she discreetly pointed at the window, “do you know who that woman is? She keeps saying she’s here for Doha.”

You frowned, glancing at the window but not being able to see anything other than a glimpse of the said woman’s long curly black hair.

Setting your file aside, you stood up, wincing at the ache in your back and neck from slouching over for so long, “Okay, you stay here and make sure Doha doesn’t leave. I’ll go check the system.”

The intern nodded, looking like the epitome of a deer caught in the headlights, and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t trying to rush over to the office to retrieve Doha’s personal file.

Glancing at the file, you’d noticed how there’d been specific comments from Doyoung saying that he should be the only primary person of contact, other than Jungwoo, and no other person was registered to be able to pick her up from school.

Straightening out your cardigan, you’d made your way over to the entrance of the childcare, opening the door to reveal a woman who looked as though she was in her forties, curly hair falling down her back and a haggard look to her features, looking as though she hadn’t slept in days. Yet, she gave you a small smile, something unnerving you about it, making you wonder if your suspicions were right about just who _exactly_ this woman was.

“Hi. Sorry, ma’am, can I help you?” you asked, shutting the door behind you for good measure, the beeping of the lock serving to calm you down just slightly, not knowing how this woman managed to make you feel nervous just from the stare she was giving you.

“I’m here for Doha.”

You gave her a small smile to remain professional, shaking your head at her, “I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re not allowed to let you leave with Doha since your name isn’t registered as her guardian.”

Just like that, the woman’s expression had darkened, “She’s my daughter. I have a _right_ to take her home.”

Even her wording hadn’t sat right with you, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, you’d heard your name being called from behind the woman, spotting Doyoung who wore the same smirk on his face, looking as though he were ready to subject you to another round of teasing in front of the other parents.

You shook your head, your mouth opening and closing for lack of a better response, the woman turning to face the direction of the noise, Doyoung meeting his gaze and stopping dead in his tracks when he was face-to-face with the woman.

Like a trainwreck, you couldn’t tear your gaze away, your eyes desperately searching Doyoung’s expression, how his eyes had immediately gone wide, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as his lips parted, something in his gaze almost looking scared for just a moment. Though it disappeared as quickly as it came, Doyoung’s gaze hardened as he let out a deep breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

He wasn’t prepared to see his mother ever again in his life, especially now. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered what it would be like to meet her again, what she would look like, what he would say to her, whether he’d take that opportunity to tell her off. He’d always imagined it would be when Doha was already old enough to make her own decisions, when he was ready to face her confidently. Not like this.

What surprised him the most, was that he didn’t need to look at her twice to know who she was, just when he was starting to think he couldn’t remember what she looked like anymore.

“What are you doing here,” Doyoung’s voice was so sharp it had practically forced you to look up, feeling intimidated just watching the glare he was sending her way. Doyoung had felt like asking for the reason behind her presence, a million questions that he’d been mulling over for the past four years simply _begging_ to be asked.

His mother was unfazed, not sparing him a second glance as she turned back to you, “Well? Where’s Doha?”

“Wait outside,” he told her, glaring at her back.

It had almost sent shivers down your spine, the way his mother had simply let the smallest of smirks appear on her face as she stepped aside, letting Doyoung take a step towards you.

You didn’t have to say anything to him, frankly, you didn’t _know_ what to say to him, only being able to muster a small questioning look of concern. Though even as you’d opened the door to call Doha over, Doyoung had kept the same thoughtful look on his face, looking as though he were still trying to suppress his anger and shock as you checked Doha out in the system.

Mustering a goodbye to Doha, you watched anxiously as Doyoung had left with Doha, his mother trailing behind them, not missing the way he’d held Doha especially close to his side that day.

You’d spent the next week hating yourself for the way you would constantly find yourself glancing at the window whenever 4pm rolled around, silently hoping that you wouldn’t see Jungwoo so you would be able to talk to Doyoung and ask him if he was okay, feeling weird to text him about it, given that it was really none of your business.

You normally would’ve let it slide, if not for the way you kept hearing feedback from the teachers doing health checks in the morning who mentioned how Doha was having a harder time these days separating from Doyoung, how she would cling onto him for dear life and insist that she didn’t want to leave him. Doha wasn’t usually like this, and you knew that.

You’d felt a sour unsettling feeling churning in you with each day that passed and signs that Doyoung was alright seemed almost nonexistent, deciding on a Friday evening that you’d had enough, stopping Jungwoo before he could leave with Doha.

“Yeah?” Jungwoo looked fine, you supposed. He still had the same cheerful smile on his face when he greeted you, not to mention the energy to lift Doha’s spirits. So, maybe Doyoung wouldn’t be doing as badly as you thought he was? If that was anything to stay hopeful about.

“Is... uh... do you know if, like... is—” you weren’t sure why you were stumbling over your words, stopping yourself in frustration.

Jungwoo, however, seemed to know what you were about to ask. “Doyoung?” he offered with a small smile, his eyebrows raising slightly.

As shocked as you were that he’d been able to figure out what you were curious about, you dismissed it quickly, nodding at him in your eagerness to get answers to your questions.

“He’s... _coping_ ,” he told you simply, “he hasn’t messaged you?”

You shook your head, a slight frown on your face, “No, he hasn’t.”

Jungwoo hummed, almost seeming surprised at the revelation, shaking his head.

“But don’t worry, Doyoung’s just a little...” he pouted slightly, as if trying to find the right word, “ _busier_ these days.”

You figured that was enough for now, assuming that this meant he was busy dealing with his mom or dealing with school, yet you should’ve known your mind wouldn’t let you rest, leading your body to the lounge as a habitual means of gaining solace. You’d grown used to going to the lounge whenever your mind was at unease, and whenever you needed comfort, it was only natural for you to find yourself there on a night like this.

However, what you didn't expect was to see Doyoung there.

_On days when Doyoung felt like his thoughts were too much to communicate to others, he let his music speak for him._

And speak for him it did. Entering the lounge about halfway through his set, you couldn’t help but notice the way his voice sounded different today. How, instead of possessing its usual, flighty, gentle flow, it sounded almost harsher today, each note holding more intensity than before. His voice had almost sounded overused, as if him singing any louder would have made his voice disappear, pained as he shut his eyes as he sang.

Something was different with Doyoung and you could tell. You didn’t mean to over analyse him, of course, but when you usually heard him, you enjoyed how he seemed as though singing was as easy as breathing for him, how much ease he had in controlling his voice. Today, he had sounded so emotionally drained that even singing appeared to take up mountains of his energy. But the amount of emotion he poured into each song stayed the same.

It was true that Doyoung was tired, emotionally and physically, but as he started singing his own sad rendition of ‘ _I get along without you very well’_ , he figured that was what rendered him still able to sit on the stage and perform for his weekly set; the security that singing gave him, the consistency of it even when he felt like he was losing his grip on everything else around him.

As Doyoung started his last song of the night, ‘ _Don’t go to strangers_ ’, he’d surprised himself when he’d glanced over your usual booth and saw you sitting in it instead of how he’d expected it to be empty, wondering why you were looking at him like that yet at the same time knowing exactly why.

So, when he’d found you waiting for him outside the lounge when he’d exited, your hands shoved into your coat pockets and shoulders shrugged almost to your neck as you braced against an incoming gust of cold wind, Doyoung found himself releasing a deep breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Your head snapped around quickly, a small smile on Doyoung’s face. You weren’t sure why you were so afraid he’d get the wrong idea. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t gone home together before, but something about the situation just made you feel as if you were treading on dangerous territory, yet it was obvious that you couldn’t stop yourself now.

“Uh... no, I just figured we could like... walk home together since it was pretty late and uh... you know, it’s pretty dangerous to walk home alone when it’s this dark out,” you explained, one hand going up to pull the collar of your shirt closer around your neck, cursing yourself that you hadn’t worn a scarf today, the way the cold was biting your neck made you wonder just why you’d been stupid enough to wait outside the lounge.

Doyoung took his lower lip between his teeth, letting it go quickly as he fought to conceal his smile, “So... you _were_ waiting for me?”

You had already begun to walk, Doyoung walking next to you, close enough that you swore his presence was enough for you to feel more warmth course through your body.

You rolled your eyes, tutting your tongue in annoyance at him, waving him off as you turned to face elsewhere, “Yeah, whatever, I was.”

“That’s sweet of you,” he murmured, the look of horror on his face making him quickly add, “oh, maybe i’m getting ahead of myself. You probably do this for all the other children’s parents, don’t you?”

You almost groaned in your frustration.

“Can’t believe I was actually worried, you seem to be doing just fine,” you muttered sulkily, your words seeming to have made Doyoung fall silent. He figured distractions could only go so far, they were all temporary after all.

“You were?” his tone was gentler than you’d ever heard before, making something stir within your heart that you couldn’t quite identify. “I guess I can understand why, I’m sure you’ve noticed how Doha’s been a bit more sensitive recently.”

You weren’t sure what burst of confidence fuelled your next words, maybe it was just frustration. All you knew was that you were almost upset that he chose now of all times not to read into your words.

“I was talking about _you_.” 

Doyoung’s eyes widened.

“I mean yeah, of course I was concerned about Doha, but I see her everyday, I can at least talk to her and ask her how she’s doing. You...” you glanced at him only briefly, fixating your gaze back to looking straight ahead, “you didn’t say anything.”

You would’ve felt embarrassed at how vulnerable you felt in that moment, if not for the way the silence of your neighbourhood engulfed you and nothing could be heard other than the sound of the both of your footsteps and the faint chatter coming from a nearby bar.

“I’m sorry, I just... didn’t want to make you worried or anything, plus I never would’ve guessed you would have any reason to worry about me—”

“Is wanting to know if you were okay not enough of a reason?” you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that left you.

Doyoung looked at you seriously, almost stopping in his tracks but regaining his composure quickly, “It is, I’m sorry.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you hugged your arms tighter around yourself, “Don’t be sorry. If anything, I should be sorry. I’m the one pressuring you into giving me updates on your well-being.”

Doyoung hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was flustered at the thought that you’d spent the last week worrying about him.

“Well, if you must know. I’ve been busy... sorting out some legal stuff.”

You frowned, “Is that why she came back? Does she want custody over Doha or something?”

Doyoung brought a hand up to wipe at his face, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses, “She _has_ custody over Doha. Which kind of explains why I’ve been busy with legal stuff.”

Your eyes widened, “What kind of legal stuff...” you asked, though a part of you felt like you’d already known what he was going to say.

Doyoung nodded, “I’m going to try and petition for myself to be Doha’s guardian.”

Nearing a group of rowdy businessmen who were smoking outside a bar, you’d almost yelped when Doyoung had grasped the sleeve of your coat, pulling you towards him slightly as you made your way past the group of men.

Barely recovering from your shock, a mere breath left you, “What if...what if you like...lose—”

He shot you a stern look, making you regret that the words had ever left your lips, the both of you not realising that he was still holding onto your sleeve.

“I can’t. Doha’s... Doha’s all I've cared about for the past few years, I’m not going to just let her ruin Doha’s life like that,” Doyoung shook his head, “I know she’s capable of it.”

“Do you have a lawyer helping you or anything? If not I can ask Kun.”

“No, yeah, I’ve actually asked him already, we’re more or less prepared.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, a single syllable of ‘ _prepared_?’ being all you could muster. 

“Our hearing is scheduled for Christmas Eve.”

You couldn’t help but hum, not knowing what to say to him.

“You don’t have to feel bad or anything. Or say anything to me... i’m happy just from the fact that you’re here.”

You scrunch your nose up in response, not being able to help the smile from your face, “Don’t get too carried away saying things like that...”

Doyoung raised his eyebrows, amusement laced in his smirk, “what? Too unbecoming?” You nodded.

“Too much,” you murmured, the crunching of gravel beneath your shoes only getting louder.

“You know I mean it, right?” Doyoung murmured after a short silence, looking at you as he searched your expression for a reaction, the way the smallest of smiles had made its way on your face as you looked away making Doyoung look back ahead, a satisfied smile on his face.

The smile had only grown when he heard you trying to be nonchalant, a simple, “I know,” leaving you.

You let a silence fall on the both of you, making your way past the bars and restaurants that were closing up for the night, turning into the street where you both lived.

Doyoung wasn’t sure how to describe what he was feeling, still reeling from thoughts that you were actually worried about him and had wanted to make sure he was okay, from the thought that he was starting to get overwhelmed with how much he’d wanted to care for you and be cared for by you. No matter how many times it was said, it was clear to Doyoung that he’d never experienced this kind of feeling before, yet strangely, it wasn’t that unfamiliar. It was the closest to love he’d ever found himself feeling to someone other than Doha and his friends, so he did what he was most confident in doing. _He improvised._

“What happened at work today?” he asked.

You frowned, “Work? Nothing happened, just... a normal day I guess.”

Doyoung nodded slowly, his behaviour causing your suspicion to rise.

“Why’d you ask?” you let yourself look at him, seeing him bring his hand up to nudge his glasses higher on his nose bridge, breathing out a breath that could be seen in the cold air.

Shaking his head quickly, he let a small huff of laughter escape him. “No, nothing, I just figured i’d ask... you know, since you looked a little down just now.”

You wondered why it was so that Doyoung had managed to come into your life and give you all the comfort you could ask for on days when you truly needed it. You weren’t sure if this was some sort of _mini Christmas miracle_ you were experiencing, or maybe that was what it was, you being drunk off of the Christmas Spirit after not experiencing it so long. But then, it seemed that this ‘ _Christmas Spirit_ ’ only grew stronger whenever Doyoung was around.

Whatever it was, you were starting to be thankful for Johnny’s meddling, and the tiny _Johnny-like_ voice in your head begging you to throw caution to the wind. You were treading on dangerous territory now and you knew it.

Walking into the lobby and watching Doyoung press the lift button, the doors opening almost immediately, you made your way to the side of the lift, leaning your back against the wall of the lift as you looked at Doyoung with a small furrow to your eyebrows.

“Honestly? I don’t know why I came to the lounge today,” you confessed, “whether it was because I wanted to have that hope of possibly seeing you there or whether it was because it’s basically clockwork at this point, for me to go there when I feel like shit—I'm not sure. So, I can’t say I have a definitive answer for you.”

_Don’t be too specific. It’s not ethical for you to be feeling this way._

“All I know is that I'm not feeling as shitty as I did now than I did an hour ago,” you punctuated your sentence with a small huff of laughter, your breath almost hitching at the way Doyoung had simply stared at you, his lips pressing into a tight firm line before he pursed his lips. He’d leant against the opposite wall of the lift casually, both his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his satchel slung around his chest and the keychain of it clinking softly against the railing.

“That’s good,” he muttered, looking away only briefly, his next words slipping out before he could register them, “that’s all I wanted to hear.”

Reaching over, Doyoung dared himself to raise one of his hands, letting it gently pat your head, almost smoothing over your hair and tucking it behind your ear with a smile, not even realising he’d let his hand cup your face just for a moment before letting go.

Now it was your turn to feel what Doyoung felt, that consistent feeling of almost flying but then being pulled back to earth into what could only be described as a warm hug; a weighted blanket.

_To Christmas, and the groundedness you felt right now._

“Goodnight, Doyoung,” your voice was barely above a whisper, the bell sounding and the lift doors opening up to his apartment floor.

“Goodnight,” he smiled, “I’ll see you soon.”

===

“I hope you don’t think this is actually going to make a difference,” she spat at him, baseless, but it hurt nonetheless.

Doyoung shot her a tired look, not wanting to deal with this when he was already about to leave for the Christmas potluck at Doha’s preschool.

Doha hadn’t left Doyoung’s side ever since their mother had come back, the feeling of the weight of her small hands pulling on his coat as she stood behind him almost enough to make Doyoung’s tension rise.

“I hope you don’t think it’s appropriate to be starting this with me in front of her,” Doyoung murmured, “now if you’ll excuse us, we have to get going.”

“Dongyoung. What do you even get from this? You _know_ I need her,” Doyoung couldn’t bear to look at her.

He loved his mother, he did. But the woman in front of him hasn’t felt like his mother for ages now.

Just her tone was enough to send shivers down his spine, the way she would always do this whenever she’d wanted him to give in to her requests. He may have done so a few years back, but not now. Not when there was so much at stake.

Doyoung made his way over to the kitchen, trying to distract himself with bagging the jars of cookies he’d baked with Doha for the Christmas party, though from the way Doha’s grip had only felt heavier he knew she had followed behind him.

“I don’t _get_ anything from this. You on the other hand, i’m not so sure. Tell me, what _exactly_ do you need her for?” his tone was as stoic as he could muster, not wanting to let her in on how he was feeling, the events of the past few days having already brought Doyoung close to his limit, endless hours of tireless preparation and the constant worry lingering in his mind of the ‘what if’s that could go wrong during the hearing.

“I can raise her, you know? I just need to claim the subsidies and her school f—” 

“I’m not letting you tap on her school fund.”

“—hear me out, this could be a good thing for us.”

Doyoung’s head lifted to look at her, his gaze searching the woman’s expression. 

“Us?” he dared to question.

The woman’s expression read nothing but annoyance, as if she was bothered that Doyoung would even bother asking such a question.

“Yes, Doha and I.”

Doyoung wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He knew the entire situation was purely hypothetical, he knew she was still under the influence and wasn’t capable of bearing the responsibility of raising Doha and getting her life back on track in order to do that. Though at the same time, he wasn’t sure why he’d almost hoped to be a part of that equation. Almost.

Doyoung shook his head, disgust washing over him as he scoffed, “I think you mean, for yourself. Doha was never someone you cared for and you know that.”

It seemed he’d finally managed to get his mother back to her usual self, the woman not bothering to gain his sympathy anymore as she simply straightened up, scoffing, “You think this is about caring?”

Doyoung brushed past the woman, little footsteps following behind him as he made his way towards the sofa, letting Doha carry one of the bags, a small murmur of ‘ _it’s okay_ ’ encouraging her to let go of one hand from her death grip on his coat.

“Well, she’s your child, it’s a bare necessity for you to—”

“It was never about care. Do you understand that? This is about _survival_. ThemoneyI could get from Doha... it could really change things for me. You don’t _know_ because you don’t have a child. She’s my daughter, you don’t understand what Doha means to me.”

Doyoung wasn’t sure if he was just tired of the way she’d kept portraying Doha as a money bag, or tired of the way the more he stayed here the more he’d wanted to just explode, but it was close to both for him at this point, the small whimper that escaped Doha when her mother had mentioned her name being enough to push Doyoung even closer to his limit.

Doyoung huffed, suddenly feeling too weak to even respond, barely mustering a response for her.

“And what does that make me?”

Doyoung’s mother faltered, just for a second (Doyoung swore he could have just been imagining it), it almost looked as if she’d considered that for a second, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I’m not leaving without Doha,” she said, what was deemed to be the deciding words for Doyoung. This wasn’t who he remembered and he knew that.

Doyoung shook his head, a deep sigh leaving him as his hand reached down to grab Doha’s as he made his way to the door, opening it and waiting for his mother to step out.

“I trust you know your way out.”

Doyoung was late for the Christmas potluck, and you didn’t need Yuta’s constant reminders to know that.

It snowed for the first time this season today, so after some (a lot) of pleading from the children, the teachers had agreed to let the children play out in the snow for a while. But what was worrying you about that was that even when the children had gotten tired and adjourned back into the school for food and hot chocolate, there was still no sign of Doyoung even though he’d texted you over half an hour ago that he was leaving his house.

“You act like you’re waiting for him to come back from the war,” Yuta snickered when he’d caught you glancing at the preschool’s entrance for the nth time, making you roll your eyes.

“Who said I was waiting for Doyoung?”

Yuta raised an eyebrow at you, handing you a glass of hot chocolate with an all too satisfied grin, “you just said it yourself, I didn’t say anything.”

Huffing, you watched as Seungmin led the children in singing Christmas songs together, the sound of the percussion instruments almost drowning out the parent’s incessant gossiping. Well, that was until you heard it get louder.

Your suspicions were proven right when you’d heard the rustling of bags, followed by the children’s loud chimes of ‘Doha!’, your head snapping around a little too quickly than you were proud to admit, watching as Doyoung stepped into the preschool long after his sister. You would’ve said ‘Hi’ if you hadn’t gotten distracted by the rush of students that had begun to swarm the classroom, seating them at different tables so they could do their little christmas tree decoration.

The parents weren’t even bothering to be discreet about the gossip they were divulging to each other about the newest arrivals to the preschool. You’d already heard from Seungmin that Doyoung wasn’t very well liked among them, but you didn’t think much of it, knowing Doyoung could handle himself.

Today, however, was a little different even for Doyoung.

You wouldn’t have noticed, but Doyoung was almost _hypersensitive_ to the looks and chatter coming from the other moms who were present today.

“Did you hear? He’s not even her legal guardian,” one of the mothers had proudly divulged to her friends, “I pity the poor girl, honestly. It’s a wonder how she can depend on him.”

Her friend had let out a sound of sympathy, “I agree, especially when you consider how she doesn’t have a motherly figure in her life.”

“I mean, I guess that could explain why Doha is like that,” one of the other mothers commented, Doyoung feeling his blood boil with each second that passed.

It was at that moment that they’d seen you approach Doyoung to gush about his cookies, something about your exchange seeming to have offended the group of mothers.

Doyoung had barely noticed when you’d left to go help the children with their mini christmas tree decorations, the mothers having launched into another discourse, with Yuta, who was pretending to be busy tasting a dip that a parent from his class had brought, listening closeby.

“That Teacher Y/N is also something else. She’s new, that I can understand, but did you see that just now? Behaving all close with him, something doesn’t sit right with me about that.”

“You know, one of my friends said they saw them exiting a lounge one night.” The rest of the ladies gasped.

 _Oh, the scandal of Christmas songs,_ Doyoung could almost laugh if he wasn’t already upset.

“Well, that’s no wonder, then! I can only hope they’re not doing any of that funny business in front of Doha. The poor girl already has a dysfunctional family as it is, to have her guardian having an affair with her teacher? I would simply _die_ before I let that happen to my precious Sora.”

Doyoung could almost roll his eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he reminded himself not to take their comments too seriously.

“I saw the mom the other day, looked like an absolute wreck. I mean, I can probably imagine why she disappeared. But to leave Doha in _his_ hands? I can’t imagine which is worse—”

Doyoung sucked in a sharp breath, turning to cast a glare towards the group of moms who had almost cowered under his glare. Doyoung figured a little fresh air would do him some good, he didn’t know how much longer he could last in that environment without doing something that would make your life difficult.

You’d turned, wanting to show Doha an example of how she could decorate her christmas tree since the girl had been struggling to find a use for the little tinsel you’d given her.

“Hey,” a shadow loomed over you and Doha, and you looked up with a frown.

“Move, you’re blocking the light,” you used a hand to shoo Yuta away.

Yuta sighed, “they’re talking about you, just thought you should know.” His pointed tone had already let you know who he was referring to, shaking your head in response.

“It’s fine, doesn’t matter,” you shrugged, “not like I can do anything about it anyway.”

“I guess Doyoung could, since they were talking about the both of you,” you were glad Doha was too distracted to notice the mention of her brother, your eyebrows knitting into a frown.

“They were? You heard everything, right? How bad was it?” you asked, standing up and letting Yuta bring you aside momentarily, hushed whispers being exchanged between the both of you as your co-teacher took over for you.

Yuta rolled his eyes, “oh, _now_ you want to know,” he teased.

Dismissing him with an annoyed click of your tongue, you watched as Yuta’s expression turned more thoughtful.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. But i’d be lying if I said Doyoung didn’t look affected today.”

You frowned, a part of you knowing it was because he was already stressed about the hearing tomorrow.

“They were talking about his mom... and how he wasn’t dependable enough for Doha and stuff... I mean, I can understand why he was pissed, I’d be pissed too if I were him.”

You cast a furtive glance at the mothers as Yuta spoke, not being able to find Doyoung anywhere in the room.

“Where’d he go?”

Yuta gestured outside with a nod of his head, expression serious and unwavering, “You should go, I can cover for you here for a while.”

You sucked in a hesitant breath, “but the parents, they–”

“I think we’re way past that at this point,” Yuta shot you a knowing look, which had served to plant a little bit of confidence in you.

Giving Yuta a resolute nod, you walked out of the centre, almost stumbling back at how cold it was, thinking about how crazy Doyoung must have been to actually come out here for so long. Walking a little, you’d spotted him standing at the small garden area (now covered in snow), hands shoved into his pockets and staring at nothing in particular, his shoe making patterns in the snow.

Doyoung was pretty sure he was frozen by now, the anger in him having subsided slightly only to be replaced with an indescribable exhaustion.

You could see that. And funnily enough, you thought about how you’d always subconsciously gone to Doyoung whenever you were feeling tired from the week or just needed something to remind you that things were going to be okay.

You wanted to be that for him too, in spite of yourself, and definitely in spite of everything that was telling you not to.

Right now, as you stood in the snow and looked at him, at his pink tinted nose and cheeks, you’d figured there was almost a _dreamlike_ quality to him, and of course, with that, the confidence that filled you upon seeing it was dreamlike as well.

“How’re you feeling?” your voice had pulled Doyoung from his endless thoughts, not having noticed you making your way over until now.

Daring himself to look, just the sight of you was enough to make his emotions boil over. Your question shouldn’t have to be as hard to answer as he felt like it was. Feeling the warmth in his eyes sting even more in the cold, he let out a small sigh.

“Not so good,” he huffed a little laugh in spite of himself, “It’s fine, you don’t have to worry or anything, I’ll get over it soon enough.”

You frowned.

Doyoung tried to take his mind off of the feeling of being at the brink of tears, “you sure you can be out here with me like this? In plain sight in front of the parents?” he joked, though you seemed to have taken him seriously.

Making to turn back into the direction of the preschool, a small huff had left you, “Oh, you’re right. I should probably head back—”

Doyoung winced, not knowing what came over himself when he’d reached a hand out to grab your arm, his grip softening, “No, no, sorry, I didn’t mean that. I mean- I know I may be asking for a lot but can you just... stay here for a while?”

If you were shocked at his sudden request, you didn’t show it. Wordlessly making your way back to stand next to him, you let him resume the little silence he was in before you came.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” you asked, your sentence coming out as a mumble.

Doyoung shrugged, using his tongue to run over his teeth, “more sad than nervous... just like... it’s- as much as I think I hate her because of what she did to me and Doha... at the end of the day she’s,” Doyoung let out a shaky breath, “she’s still my _mom_.”

You nodded with a small hum, hearing him sniffle, a short silence ensuing. “You’re doing a good job, Doyoung,” you told him gently.

Doyoung hadn’t responded, and when you’d turned to look at him you realised he was looking up, eyes scrunched shut tightly, the sight enough to send amusement tip-toeing through you.

A small groan left him, “shut up, it’s too cold to cry. My tears are gonna freeze onto my face.” 

Otherwise known as, _thank you._

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you dared yourself to reach your hand over, wanting to brush the snow away from his hair when he’d slowly opened his eyes, his gaze flickering over to your hand before he’d looked at you with a bloodshot tiredness in his eyes that had filled you with the immense urge to envelop him in the warmest of hugs.

There the thought appeared again for Doyoung, that he wasn’t sure how to react to the giddy feeling within him that had grown stronger. Wondering, just momentarily, if it was similar to his voice, how he could bend and shape it to his will, do with it what he pleased. So once again, he _improvised_.

Almost in a panic, you’d almost made to pull your hand back when Doyoung had gently grasped the back of your hand, his gaze searching your face for any sign of hesitation as he’d pulled your hand back to his face, pressing it gently to cup the side of his face, shutting his eyes just briefly as the last of his tears had left him. Even though your hands were freezing from the temperature, something about Doyoung didn’t notice, the gesture filled him with warmth.

You were sure you’d stopped breathing, your mind racing with thoughts on whether the parents were watching you right now, or whether it was normal that your heartbeat was this loud, or why it had started to feel to you as if this small gesture wasn’t enough to express the amount of care you’d wanted to show him in this moment.

Doyoung didn’t stop you when you’d pulled your hand away, a part of him feeling disappointed but most of him understanding why.

“There’s hot chocolate inside the kitchen if you want some,” you murmured, seeing Doyoung give you a small smile, nodding in response, his smile only growing when he saw how eager you were to rush back into the preschool, footsteps crunching against the snow as he followed behind you with a stupid smile on his face.

_To Christmas, and the love that lingered in the cold air._

===

“Doyoung’s not coming today,” Johnny felt the need to inform you when you’d walked into his house 2 days after Christmas. The said boy was dressed in a coffee coloured turtleneck sweater and grey sweatpants, given that today’s gathering was just a dinner with you and Yuta.

You shot him a sarcastic smile as you made your way into the living room, dropping your bag unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor, “Neither is Kun, or Jungwoo, are you marking attendance?”

Johnny giggled, giving you an innocent shrug, “you know, just thought I'd remind you in case you forgot.”

Taking a seat on his sofa, you called out a response to Yuta from the kitchen who’d asked if you wanted any drinks, taking the liberty of channel surfing to ignore Johnny’s teenage giddiness next to you.

“The amount of mistletoe you have hanging around your house is a little concerning, you know,” you laughed, eyeing one next to the fireplace, just above the spot you and Doyoung had been talking the last time you were here.

“I’m doing you a favour. So...” he drawled, dismissing your statement quickly, “ _little birdie_ told me you and Doyoung have gotten close, anyone you’d like to thank for that?”

Your lips parted, “Is that little birdie Japanese by any chance?” you shot a glare at Yuta who’d strolled into the living room calmly, shrugging as he handed you your drink.

“Little birdie? Never heard of him.”

“Don’t avoid the _real_ topic,” Johnny groaned, “so? How have things been going between you two?”

You shrugged, sinking further into the soft cushions of Johnny’s sofa as you picked out a movie, tossing the remote control elsewhere.

“Good, I guess. I’m really glad he managed to sort out all those things with Doha’s guardianship, it’s a lot better for her in school these days because she’s a lot less afraid and it shows in how she acts with her friends and teachers too...” you explained, trailing off when you saw the look Johnny was giving you.

“I feel like i’m at a parent teacher conference. I meant you and Doyoung, not you and Doha.”

You huffed, a small laugh leaving you, “Well, I would’ve figured your _little birdie_ ,” you shot a pointed glare at Yuta, “would’ve told you all the details by now...”

Johnny shook his head proudly, “Nope, figured i’d rather hear it from you myself to believe it.”

You glanced around the room, seeing as it was just Yuta, Johnny and yourself, you figured there’d be no harm in speaking honestly about it now.

“I...would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him,” you fought off the way Johnny almost squealed with delight, his hand grabbing your arm desperately, “but the rational part of me still thinks it’s a bad idea.”

Yuta scoffed, “ _Rational_. Who even cares about rationality these days? I say screw it and marry him,” Yuta shrugged, taking a long sip from his beer.

Your lips parted, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah, i’m not taking advice from you.”

You turned to Johnny, who seemed to be seriously considering your situation, a thoughtful pout on his lip as he fiddled with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“So, you’re really not gonna pursue it because he’s Doha’s brother?”

Shrugging, “It’s logical, isn’t it? I don’t want to give the parents something else to talk about, or seem unprofessional or whatever,” you sighed.

“You don’t sound very convincing,” Yuta commented casually, leaning back in his usual seat on Johnny’s recliner and crossing his legs, a smile on his face that practically _oozed_ relaxation.

You knew there was truth to his statement, you just figured you were prolonging it for the sake of your sanity. Frankly, it was _scary_ how much Doyoung had managed to get you not to care about what the parents had to say.

“That’s because I'm not,” you groaned, sinking further into your seat, pulling one of Johnny’s sofa cushions onto your stomach and hugging it, “I’m just...” you hummed, trying to find the right word that could be able to describe and explain your hesitance accurately.

Yuta raised his bottle of beer slightly, as if he were asking to answer, “scared.”

About to argue with him, Yuta had only raised his eyebrows at you to challenge you, making you shut your mouth out of your lack of defence.

“I know you, you’re just scared. But you should know that you’re never gonna actually do anything if you keep letting that stop you,” Yuta sighed, staring at you with a look that read ‘ _am i right?_ ’.

Johnny hummed, seeming to agree with Yuta’s reasoning, “I’m sure Doyoung’s scared too.” _He wasn’t, Johnny would’ve killed to expose to you how Doyoung had been all but heart eyes when Johnny had caught him texting you once_. “ Who knows, maybe this fear is just something the both of you have to work through together.”

You attempted to play the devil’s advocate, knowing very well you were going on little to know evidence as you tried to convince yourself and your two friends, “Yeah, but, what if he doesn’t actually like me? It could just be like, you know, caring for a friend.”

Johnny shrugged, “I wouldn’t know what Doyoung’s like in love because he’s never been in love before—”

“ _Please_ , I could close both my eyes and see it,” Yuta scoffed, turning to you again and pointing the neck of his beer bottle at you, “don’t think I didn’t see all _this_ going on that day at the potluck.” Yuta had brought one of his hands up to cup his face, making your eyes widen and warmth flood to your face and neck, suddenly wishing you could bury yourself in Johnny’s sofa.

Turning to Johnny, you’d expected him to be confused, but you’d only wanted to sink in further when you saw the way he’d given you a sheepish smile, “Sorry, little birdie didn’t miss out that detail, I guess.”

You groaned, “Then what do you guys think I should do?”

Johnny and Yuta exchanged a look, simultaneous replies of “kiss him” and “talk to him” coming respectively, making you sigh deeply.

“Is he coming for your New Year’s party?” you asked Johnny, earning an unsure shrug from him.

“Last time I checked he said he’d need to take a raincheck ‘cause he’s got final submissions.” 

You frowned, hating how your disappointment was so evident that Yuta couldn’t help but giggle.

“Maybe you could ask him, you know, just in case,” Johnny continued seriously, earning a nod from you, “I’m sure he’d want to see you as well.”

You were hesitant to message Doyoung, having tried since that day after the hearing but his replies came in awfully late, all along the lines of saying he’s been busy with preparing his final submissions and settling job applications. A part of you would’ve loved to get paranoid and say that you were being a bother to him, but you knew that wasn’t possible. Doyoung was always reassuring and you hated that, because it was a quality to adore.

5:56pm **\- hey, doyoung. Just wanted to ask if you were gonna be coming for Johnny’s new year party?-**

Setting your phone aside, you chose to ignore it, managing to let Yuta and Johnny distract you with their company till you were fast asleep on a pull-out mattress in Johnny’s bedroom, with Yuta’s arm splayed across your back as he snored lightly. The reply from Doyoung only came in then.

Maybe you were glad you were asleep, because if you’d seen it, you would’ve been kept awake with thoughts for the rest of the night.

 **Doyoung**  
3:50am **\- My last submission is on New Year’s Eve, but i’m gna try my best to be there.-  
**3:50am **\- can’t wait to see you again -**

The day of his final submission. _New Years Eve._ You’d tried your best to furtively make your way to Doyoung’s apartment that morning when you were coming back from a morning coffee run, deciding to get him some coffee and breakfast for him and Doha, hanging the bag on his door with a note that read:

_‘All the best for your submissions! You’ve worked hard on it, so I have confidence that you’ll do well. Enjoy the breakfast Doha!’_

You figured anonymity was your only saving grace now, trying not to look too embarrassed when his neighbour had cast you a confused look when they saw you sticking and peeling off the sticky note multiple times in your little bout of anxiousness.

However, if you were expecting yourself to show up at the New Year’s party and meet a handsomely dressed Doyoung there, have a good night talking (you’d never outrightly admit it, but maybe flirting as well), countdown into the New Year together, you...were wrong.

You’d ended up spending the majority of the night talking to Taeyong and Jaehyun instead, Jungwoo having brought Doha but not being able to stay for long, since Doha had gotten tired quickly enough and had to be put to bed in Johnny’s room for the time being.

Sure, when Johnny had brought his hippie family bonding board games out it had managed to entertain you for a while, but there was only so much wine and sparkling juice you could drink and time you could spend watching Yuta, Taeil and Jaehyun be competitive before you started getting tired.

It was almost _embarrassing_ , how much anticipation was within you, how much you kept hoping that you would hear the doorbell ring and see Doyoung walk in. _Was this what your New Years had been reduced to?_

Midnight was just minutes away when you started to feel drowsy, figuring it would do you some good to get up and walk around, maybe go out in the cold and freeze yourself awake (as far as unconventional wake-up methods went), so you’d excused yourself, stepping out onto Johnny’s front porch, sweeping the little mountain of snow that had settled on the pristine white-painted wooden railing to set your wine glass down.

Tugging your coat tighter around yourself, you let yourself zone out, resting your arms against the railing as you observed the little amount of wine left in your glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, the faint jazz music echoing out from Johnny’s front door that you’d left just a crack open only serving to remind you more of Doyoung, and what his voice would sound like singing ‘ _I’ll look around_ ’. You could almost laugh at yourself, the sheer sentimental nature of your thoughts as you listened to the lyrics.

Not _everything_ had to make you think of Doyoung, you told yourself in annoyance. Yet for some reason, it did.

You almost thought you were dreaming when you heard jogging footsteps becoming louder, a faint call of your name making you straighten up, looking around only to see Doyoung coming up the steps of Johnny’s front porch, blue denim jacket and black coat over a black and white striped shirt, looking as though he hadn’t been out for that long judging from the amount of snow on his coat and hair.

“Hi,” you sounded more surprised than you’d wanted to be.

Doyoung was too, his excitement getting the better of him as he’d come to face you, not knowing what came over him when he’d pulled you into a hug, warmth spreading through him and the giddiness blooming in his chest as he felt your arms wrap around him, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he’d let his cheek press against your head softly.

Maybe it was the emotion he’d accumulated from the day of the hearing, maybe it was the way you would check up on him and Doha afterwards to make sure they were coping well, maybe it was the additional gesture of dropping off breakfast and coffee for him and Doha. All of these were separate instances, but Doyoung had only found them multiplying his affection towards you tenfold. He was _thankful_ beyond words.

As for you? It was the little affirmations and prompts you’d received, the way he’d nag at you to eat your meals and get more sleep, or the way he’d asked you to stay with him, pulled your hand closer to cup his face, and even now, the way he hadn’t made any move to remove himself from the hug, the way you could feel his thumb caressing your head. The sheer comfort and love he exuded, even for someone who ( _as Johnny loved to remind you_ ) had never loved or been loved in this way before, made even the coldest of snowy days feel as refreshing as a shower of spring rain.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

You could practically hear the smile in his voice, his gentle tone making that feeling of a weighted blanket return, thankful that you’d decided to step out of Johnny’s house when you did.

Pulling away from the hug, Doyoung had let his gaze search yours, and you didn’t miss the way he’d brushed off the snow he’d gotten on your clothes.

“Thanks, by the way, for breakfast this morning,” he smiled, his gummy grin so contagious you would’ve smiled if you weren’t surprised.

A surprised giggle leaving you, your eyebrows raised, “how’d you know it was me?”

Doyoung sucked in a sharp breath, “I guessed it was you from the note, since I recognized your handwriting from Doha’s parent teacher communication book. But it was also because you left your receipt for your coffee inside there,” he admitted.

You flushed, pressing your lips into a tight smile, “Shit, I was so sure I threw that away.”

Doyoung could hear you talking about Doha, about what you’d done with her just now and the funny things she’d said, but Doyoung couldn’t concentrate. All he was thinking about was the way he could hear Johnny announcing that they were about to countdown soon, how your smile was so genuine as you talked about Doha. He’d made the mistake of letting his gaze flicker elsewhere and had unfortunately spotted a bundle of mistletoe Johnny had forgotten to take down, and now that was all he could think about.

He looked up at the mistletoe, drawing your attention up to spot it as well, “Oh look, mistletoe,” he murmured.

In the wave of panic that rushed through you, you’d reached up to pluck the mistletoe from where it hung, “oh look,” your laugh gave away your nervousness, “conflict of interest.”

You could already hear your friends starting to countdown from 10 seconds from inside the house.

Tossing the mistletoe onto the long wooden bench near you, you looked back at Doyoung, whose expression was as amused as ever.

“Good,” he muttered, and your eyes widened, swearing you could feel his proximity to you increase.

“Good?” you mumbled. _5 seconds now._

Doyoung nodded, a soft smile on his face, “I didn’t need an excuse to kiss you anyway.”

So, when Doyoung had reached his hands up to cup your face, bending down to press his lips against yours and meet you for a kiss, you didn’t stop him.

Your hands unconsciously finding their way to his waist through his coat, you felt Doyoung smile into the kiss, hearing the cheers of ‘Happy New Year!’ erupt from inside the house. Doyoung was otherwise oblivious to the cheers as he deepened the kiss, as if pouring out everything he’d wanted to express to you but didn’t know how to into this simple gesture of, to put it simply, love.

There was a tenderness present in the way he held you, all the exhaustion from your days disappearing as you’d felt him move one of his hands to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him to press yourself against him, almost feeling as though if he weren’t holding you you would’ve fallen.

It wasn’t as if either of you were very experienced. If anything, the kiss was emotional, it was new, it was unfamiliar yet it was something that felt more symbolic than anything. Just the act of letting each other know that you were both here, both filled with an immense amount of relief and joy, and wanting each other to feel that.

Finally pulling away, Doyoung’s eyes were wide, his wrist resting on your shoulder as he let his thumb run across your jaw. He had so many things to say, breathless and panting softly from the kiss, but had no idea where to start, overwhelmed by the warmth in his heart even on the coldest of Winter days.

Looking up at him with an unexplainable shyness that came naturally after sharing a kiss like that, you’d awaited in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Doyoung’s lips parted, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips before he spoke.

“Merry Christmas.”

Your eyebrows raised, a laugh leaving your lips as you smiled at him, “It’s... not Christmas.”

A flash of realisation was seen in Doyoung’s eyes, not being able to help himself from laughing as well, nodding at you.

“Right... but for the first time since... I can’t even remember, It feels like it.”

It seemed that Taeyong had chosen that time to push the door open further, “Doha’s looking for Y/N, if you guys are... done.”

You exchanged a look with Doyoung, seeing him press his lips into a firm line, poorly containing his smile as he nodded, “You go ahead, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Nodding, you’d cast him one last smile before turning to leave. “Oh, and Y/N?”

You turned quickly to face him with a hum, something in you stirring at the sight of him leaning against the railing with his hands at his sides supporting him, a tired, satisfied smile on his face.

“Happy New Year.”

_To Doyoung, and the magic of the holiday season he’d brought back to you._


End file.
